Time After Time
by LadySnowTheStark
Summary: Ten months after a run-in with a pretty redhead, Spencer brings a plus one to Baby Morgan's christening, leading to surprises all around. Fluffy story where Dr. Reid gets a shot at a normal relationship with a normal girl... but, really, what is normal? Reid/OC
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"David Rossi!"

The man in question turned around, the familiar voice catching him by surprise. He grinned when he saw who it was. "Mikey! Is that really you?"

"In the flesh," Michael Howard returned his friend's grin and shook his hand warmly. "I didn't realize you'd joined the bureau again."

"Yeah, been a couple of years now," David Rossi nodded and grinned at his old comrade. "We're doing the campus runs today, I didn't know you were up in California these days."

"We?" Mike indicated for them to walk towards the chairs set up for the informal networking at the university campus. Rossi saw a few curious students eyeing the pair, no doubt wondering who the two significantly older men were.

"Yeah," he turned his attention back to his friend. "My colleague, Dr. Spencer Reid, he's doing the linguistics and psychoanalysis seminar this afternoon. We're trying to recruit kids fresh out of college."

"I attended your talk just now. You always were a smooth talker," laughed Mike.

Rossi waved away his compliment. "What brings you here? You're an academic now?"

"Me? Nah," Mike snorted and grabbed a can of soda from the nearby cooler. "I've got a niece whose looking at universities around the country, I was closest so my brother roped me into bringing her out here. She might be in your colleague's seminar right about now, actually," he added thoughtfully, glancing at his watch. "She said she wanted to attend a talk this afternoon."

"Your niece? Jack has a daughter?" questioned Rossi.

"Adopted," nodded Mike. "Took her in when she was about ten, when he was with that firm in Chicago. She's twenty-eight now, I think, and a real genius."

"She's twenty-eight years old and still looking at schools?" Rossi raised his eyebrows.

Mike rolled his eyes. "That kid is _smart_ , Dave, let me tell you. She has a handful of Masters degrees and she works as a linguist or translator or something at one of the museums in DC, don't ask me which one. Freelances with government officials whenever they want some fresh blood. She wants to do a PhD and all the schools are trying to woo her. I don't even know what she wants to do. All I know is that half the stuff she says goes over my head."

"Sounds like someone else I know," chuckled Rossi. "What's her name?"

"Sorry, Uncle Mike," a voice sounded from behind him. "I got carried – oh, am I interrupting?"

"Not at all," Mike Grayson wasn't a kid-friendly person by any means, but Rossi knew he was a softie at heart, and the smile he threw the young woman who was approaching them proved it. "C'mere, there's someone I want you to meet. Dave, this is Anthea. Kid, this is David Rossi, the –"

"I know," interrupted Anthea. Rossi took her in quickly as she came to stand in front of him. She was slightly tan, probably from too much sun, with dark eyes and auburn hair neatly clipped out of her face. She was tall, but hunched into herself slightly, her arms wrapped around a notebook that she hugged against her chest. She dressed in a pair of wide-legged trousers, a white blouse and high-heeled black boots. Rossi resisted the urge to smirk when she pulled out his newest book from inside a large black handbag that was slung over her shoulder. "I've read all your books, sir," she gave him a hesitant smile and offered her hand. "Anthea Grayson."

"Pleasure to meet you," said Rossi, accepting her hand. "Mikey tells me you're a very intelligent young woman."

"Uncle Mike likes to brag because I'm the smart one and my brother's the bad boy," despite her words, Anthea smiled brighter at his compliment. "Also, I'm the one who listens to his military stories. He never told me he knew you, though," she turned an accusatory eye to her uncle.

Mike held up his hands in surrender. "You never asked."

Anthea shook her head. "I liked your talk, Agent Rossi," she added. "You've seen some pretty crazy things."

"I have," nodded Rossi. "And you're not interested in joining the bureau?"

Anthea laughed. "Me? I just came back from a lecture on linguistics and psychoanalysis, I think I'll stick to my field."

"Oh, yeah, Dave was just –" Mike trailed off when he saw Rossi discreetly shake his head at his friend.

"I was just saying how I wanted to attend that one myself," said Rossi, noticing Anthea's confused look. "How'd you find it?"

"Well, the links between psychoanalysis and linguistics with regards to criminology are vague at best in a nineteenth century context, but the further analysis that Dr. Reid had with regards to medical practices was really fascinating. And he even gave us an example of how it's useful with regards to field work. Did you know they're making social psychology compulsory for agents who want to go into the field?" she threw the question at her uncle and continued speaking without waiting for an answer. Mike rolled his eyes. "I did a double major in English and philosophy with a minor in politics, and some of the things he said were new even to me."

Mike was shaking his head by the time Anthea had stopped to breathe, but Rossi was smiling. "And Dr. Reid? How'd you find him?" he pushed.

"He's a genius," said Anthea matter-of-factly. "I just wished he had asked us if we had any questions in the end. I had a whole page," she indicated her notebook.

"You'll find him to be slightly awkward when caught off guard and forced to interact with people," said Rossi. Anthea looked even more confused, and he indicated over her shoulder. Anthea turned around and squeaked when she saw the man she had been talking about approaching. "You can ask him your questions now, if you want," added Rossi. "He loves talking about this stuff. Hey, Spencer!"

"Hey, sorry if I kept you waiting," Spencer jogged the last few feet between them and came to stand right next to Anthea, who seemed to freeze, wide-eyed. "I – oh, hello."

"This is my friend, Mike Grayson, we served together in Vietnam," Rossi introduced. "Mike, Dr. Spencer Reid, my colleague. This is Mike's niece, Anthea," he indicated the woman standing next to him. "She was just telling us about your talk."

"Oh, you attended the talk?" Spencer turned to face her curiously. "What did you think?" Rossi rolled his eyes at the abrupt conversation start. Trust Dr. Reid to skip the social niceties.

Her awkwardness seemed to melt away when he asked her about something she was clearly familiar with. She smiled hesitantly. "I was really interested by what you said about nineteenth century medicinal practices and psychoanalysis."

Spencer's eyes lit up. "Yeah, I didn't have time or I would have gone into twentieth century as well, it's amazing how many famous people are overlooked because they're known for things that people can never link with linguistics and psychoanalysis."

"Do you mean Freud?" asked Anthea curiously, her previous nerves suddenly forgotten. "I did a paper on him but I never thought about linguistics as a form of psychoanalysis in those times."

"It's really easy to be misguided by that notion," explained Spencer. "In fact, Freud was very interested in Charcot's work and his study of female hysteria, but psychoanalysis always takes it one step further, generalizes the concept and talks about how hysteria as a concept can be studied and ultimately cured by the use of words. They called it the "talking cure" at one point because it was literally by getting a patient to talk that you could find the inherent problem and fix it. The idea was that a patient would know their own body better than anyone else, so of course they'd be able to tell the doctors exactly what was wrong. This didn't take into account the unreliability of certain patients, unfortunately, which is why it was always discredited."

"So what we'd call therapy now, they were practicing it a hundred years ago and discrediting it because of the superior effect of drugs versus words," finished Anthea.

"And if you link that with linguistics and criminology, you can find patterns in speech, tells, all sorts of things that help you profile an unsub, sometimes without even having to see him," nodded Spencer.

"I know we've done it before on any number of cases," chimed in Rossi. He noted the way both of the younger people jumped and turned to face him, as if they had forgotten he was even there. He felt Mike shake his head from next to him.

"Oh, right, of course, you're with the FBI as well," said Anthea. Rossi noticed her right index finger began to tap against the outside of her notebook, almost rhythmically.

"Our resident boy genius," he said, tearing his eyes away from her hands and clapping Spencer on the back, noting the way his cheeks turned pink. He chuckled. "Well, gang, it's been fun, but we have a plane to catch."

"I'll be up visiting you soon now that I know where you are," warned Mike, catching his hand in a firm shake and squeezing his shoulder.

"I look forward to it," smiled Rossi. He turned to Anthea and offered her his hand. "It was nice to meet you, Anthea. Say hi to your dad for me."

"I will," smiled Anthea. She shook his hand and turned to Spencer, and Rossi saw her dark eyes light up with understanding when he didn't offer her his hand, but merely smiled. Her returning smile was bright. "It was really nice to meet you, Dr. Reid."

"You too, Anthea," smiled Reid. He nodded to Mike and followed Rossi towards the parking lot.


	2. 1

**One month later**

"Morning," Anthea didn't look up from the book she was reading, but slid the steaming mug of coffee across the table with one hand. "You're late."

Spencer gave the redhead in front of him a tired smile and grabbed the coffee gratefully. "I just got back last night."

"I saw your text. You wanted to meet early." She still didn't look up.

"I didn't think I'd be this tired. Sorry about the wait."

"I don't mind," Anthea shrugged and finally snapped her book shut, placing it carefully onto the table and raising an eyebrow at the man sitting opposite her. "Well?"

Spencer took a gulp of coffee.

She clicked her tongue. "You said you'd read it."

He nodded, hiding his smile behind his mug.

Anthea scowled. "Spencer!"

He gave up. "I read it on the metro on the way home."

Anthea huffed. "Damn eidetic memory. What did you think?"

Spencer shrugged. "I thought it was good."

"You're teasing me."

His lips twitched. "Sorry."

"Hand it over, Dr. Reid."

Spencer chuckled and ducked down to remove something from his messenger bag. It was an old essay of Anthea's, perfectly formatted and annotated, and now covered in his scribbles. "I made notes."

"You mean you wrote an essay on my essay," said Anthea. She didn't sound angry. In fact, she was smiling. "Will I be able to take the criticism?"

Spencer took another gulp of coffee before answering. "There's not a lot of criticism. You know your stuff, Dr. Grayson."

"Don't call me that," muttered Anthea, flipping through the pages. She didn't have an eidetic memory, but she was a fast reader. "You didn't hate the passage on Barthes?"

"No, but I could have lived without it."

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, a now-familiar glint lighting them up. "But I love _Mythologies_!"

Spencer smiled. "I could tell, which is why I didn't cut it out."

Anthea opened her mouth to argue, but her expression told him she had probably just remembered their last conversation on Roland Barthes, which hadn't ended well. She sighed. "Fair enough. But seriously, thanks for this," she gave him a smile which bordered on a beam. "I'd say I hope I didn't waste any of your time, but –"

Spencer interrupted her. "I enjoyed it."

Anthea hummed in reply, already thumbing through his notes slowly, reading them with greater care this time. Spencer studied her as she read, confident that she had no idea he was watching her, she was so absorbed in her reading.

Anthea was beautiful. There was no other word for it. Her skin was creamy, her lips were full, her eyes were wide and bright, and her dark auburn hair was in a high ponytail. Today, she was wearing a plain black coat, though he could see a hint of green peeking out from under her collar, with leggings and high-heeled boots. More than that, though, it was her voice. Everything she said, he had read in a hundred different books, phrased in a hundred different ways, but it just sounded _better_ when she chose to say it. He had noticed it the day they first met, but it had been a passing thought. Then, he had gone back to Georgetown the next day. He hadn't needed to go, but he had taken some time off and attended a lecture on humanities versus science subjects at university, and there she was, seated in the front row with the same notebook in hand that she had been fidgeting with the previous day. It had hit him like a ton of bricks that _she_ was the reason he had travelled out of his way to attend lectures he probably already knew better than the speakers, and _she_ was smiling at him pleasantly, obviously recognizing him.

He had hesitated. In roughly twenty seconds, he had debated the pros and cons of engaging in conversation with her. He found women attractive often enough, but it was rare that he actually wanted to _speak_ to them. His conversation with Anthea had been perfect. Did he want to ruin that by making a fool out of himself today? Did she even want him to sit next to her? Did she even remember him, or was he misconstruing a pleasant expression for a welcoming smile and an invitation to approach? She was so normal. She was probably smarter than the average person, but she looked _normal_. Did she need him in her life?

And then she had raised one eyebrow and clearly inclined her head towards the seat next to her. In front of his eyes, she picked up her large handbag off the chair and gave him another smile before returning her attention to the podium. Spencer had sat down without another word.

"Stop it," Anthea's words jerked him out of his reverie, and he blinked.

"What?"

"You've been looking at me for over two hundred seconds," she looked up at him from under her lashes. The look was almost shy. "Do I have something on my face?"

He merely shook his head at her question, too awkward to speak. Anthea, however, was nonplussed. She merely shrugged and flicked open the essay again. "Then stare away, Dr. Reid. Six hundred would be when I call the cops on you."

He smiled at that. She often counted time in seconds. Spencer knew it had something to do with the rhythmic tapping of her fingernails against flat surfaces, a habit she kept up no matter where she was or what she was doing, though he had failed to notice it the last few times they met since she seemed to use her thigh instead of the table where it would draw less attention. He wanted to ask her about it, in his mind categorizing it as some form of OCD, but unwilling to voice his suspicions lest she be offended.

"You never did tell me how long you're here for," once again, her voice had to jerk him from his thoughts. It was almost embarrassing now, but her eyes were still glued to the page. She hadn't looked up in a while.

"I have to leave for work in about an hour." Could she detect the reluctance in his voice?

"Really?" she looked up from the page and frowned. "You should have told me earlier, I wouldn't have wasted time doing something I could have done at home," she folded the paper into half neatly and dove for her bag, stuffing it inside. She placed her elbows on the table, cupped her face, and grinned. "So?"

Spencer laughed again. "So?"

Anthea shrugged. "Tell me something new."

"We talked on the phone last night, there hasn't been much new since then," said Spencer. He felt like slapping himself as soon as he'd said it, of course. Why did he have to be so idiotic? He should have made a charming comment, but instead he had said something completely unemotional and factual.

To his surprise, Anthea didn't even blink. In fact, she looked like she... understood? "I know!" she exclaimed. "We've known each other like a month and already I feel like I've talked to you about _everything_."

Spencer recovered from his shock quick enough to respond. "We do talk a lot, in your defence."

"No lies there," she picked up her coffee and drained it quickly, screwing up her eyes in distaste. Brain freeze, noted Spencer silently, and gave her a sympathetic smile when she opened her eyes again. Her phone buzzed, and she gave him an apologetic look before sliding her thumb across the screen to read her text. She frowned.

"Bad news?" asked Spencer.

"No. My friend keeps calling you 'the cutie in the purple scarf'," Anthea rolled her eyes. "She wanted to know why I couldn't make her pancakes this morning so I told her I'm meeting you."

Spencer's eyes widened. "Y-your friend?" She talked to her friends about him?

Anthea frowned. "Yeah, Alice? She was sitting next to me that day at Georgetown. Don't you remember her?" Spencer looked at her blankly. Anthea raised her eyebrows. "She was the one I was supposed to get a ride with, but she ditched me so we split a cab?"

"I didn't think I'd met her," muttered Spencer, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Had he forgotten her friend _already_? He knew he had been busy staring at Anthea and hanging onto her every word, and he did tend to forget his surroundings when he was talking to her, but had it been that bad on the second meeting?

"You probably forgot," Anthea waved it off. "Anyway, she's convinced I'm trying to keep you away from her."

That was an interesting notion. "And are you?" asked Spencer curiously.

Anthea hesitated. Her expression made Spencer feel like he had said something wrong. "Maybe I'm just not ready to share you yet," she said quietly. Uncharacteristically, her eyes lowered as she played with the straw in her empty glass. She didn't look up.

Spencer sighed inwardly. This would be the moment when, if the circumstances were normal, he'd take her hand and squeeze it, she'd look up at him and he'd confess his strengthening feelings for her, she'd reply in kind and they'd live happily ever after.

Unfortunately, _he_ wasn't normal, so by extension none of his relationships could ever be either. He couldn't touch her. He wanted to, but something always held him back. He wasn't sure if it was habit, or just fear of rejection. She acted like she liked him more than a friend: pupils dilated, smiles, a catch in her breath, all the signs were there and yet his own feelings meant that he felt uncomfortable deciphering her like she was a victim or an UnSub. And he did have feelings for her, but he didn't know if they were strong enough to overcome all the baggage they would both deal with if she felt the same way. Or maybe the feelings were so strong that he didn't want her to have to deal with anything unpleasant, and that was what held him back? It was an interesting thought.

So, as much as Spencer wanted to touch her, he didn't. He merely waited until she sneaked a look at him and gave her a warm smile, hopefully putting some of her unease at rest. "I don't think I want to share you either," he said simply. _Please understand what I mean._

Her answering smile told him that yes, she did understand.


	3. 2

**Two months later**

"I'm surprised you picked Georgetown."

Anthea looked up from the book she was scrutinising and raised an eyebrow at him. "You are?"

Spencer shrugged. "You've been to three out of the top five best colleges for your subject and you pick Georgetown to do your final PhD at? Its barely in the top fifty."

"They offered me the position as a lecturer, don't forget," reminded Anthea absently, replacing the battered copy of _A Tale of Two Cities_ and picking up a worn Jane Austen collection instead. They were at a used book-store close to the place they often met up at for breakfast. Anthea was looking for early editions of classics, and Spencer had tagged along because it was Sunday and he enjoyed spending every free moment in her company.

"So did Chicago, and that's closer to home," pointed out Spencer. Anthea rolled her eyes and made to sidestep him, but he automatically blocked her path. He knew he shouldn't have said that, clearly her choices in life were a touchy subject for her. He realized this because she hardly ever referred to her family when discussing her inspirations to follow through with critical theory, it was always a vague realization during a play or while reading a book that seemed to have led her to this point, but it was so easy to talk to her. She had never batted an eyelid at any of his comments. He offered her an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

Anthea sighed. "Nothing to be sorry about," she tried to smile and touched his arm. His sleeves were rolled up and the tops of her fingers just brushed against his forearm. Even that light touch sent a shot of fire through his body, and Spencer froze. He knew she hadn't done it on purpose. It was probably a reflex, something she did when she had upset someone and she wanted to convey her apologies. She knew his issues with touching without him having to voice them, and clearly she had realized what she was doing a little too late. She snatched her hand back and grimaced. "Guess I should be sorry now."

Spencer shook his head, coming out of his state of shock. He raised a hand, wanting to touch her but unable to do it. It fell to his side uselessly. "Anthea, I'm sorry I –"

"Hey, it's okay!" she shook her head and picked up a random book, keeping her gaze fixed on it. "We all have our quirks, Spencer. I honestly don't mind."

But she did. He could see it in her eyes. Anthea was a naturally affectionate person with anyone she cared about, and despite two months of basically seeing her whenever he wasn't devoting time to a case, Spencer still couldn't make himself do it. He wanted to hug her when she came to stand beside him in the line to get coffee or outside a bookstore, he wanted to rest his hand against the small of her back when he was trying to lead her towards a diner where they could grab breakfast before they both had to work, he wanted to grab her hand and stop her from leaving when she would dash out of her chair because she was about to miss her train, but he couldn't.

"What about this one?" her voice jerked him out of his reflections, and he glanced at her. Her face was clear once again, and her eyes were glittering as she held up a copy of _The Divine Comedy._

"You have an early edition of that one," said Spencer, still hesitant but willing to go along with her good mood. It was best not to cross her when situations became awkward, she had a way of dispelling the tension just by speaking or distracting him and it was quite effective.

"Yeah, but this one's in Italian," she spoke like it was obvious.

"You speak Italian?" asked Spencer in confusion.

"No _,_ but _you_ do," her eyes were glinting again. Spencer groaned and made to turn away, but Anthea side-stepped him this time and blocked his path, grinning cheekily. "What?" she laughed at his grimace. "You just read the French version of _Mythologies_ to me last week!"

"That's because your version wasn't a correct translation," argued Spencer, but he knew it was useless. He couldn't say to no Anthea.

Sighing, he plucked the book from her hands, making his way towards the counter and resisting the urge to smile at Anthea's excited look. As much as he hated reading out loud, she seemed to enjoy it when he did. Over breakfast last week they had debated Barthes yet again, and Anthe had willingly pulled up the original French version on her tablet when Spencer had insisted that she didn't know the correct translation. He had been right, but after reading it and explaining why he was right, he had noted that she was smiling giddily. When he had asked her why, she had merely shrugged and said she liked it when he read to her. Spencer had blushed and agreed to her request of reading her another few pages.

"Ugh, it's raining," complained Anthea as they exited the book-store. Spencer removed the foldable umbrella from his messenger bag and held it up over both of them willingly. It was only when they began walking, huddled close together to avoid the downpour, did he realize that they were _very_ close together. Surprisingly, he didn't feel uncomfortable at all. Was it only skin on skin contact that bothered him, then? That was odd. He had always hated it when anyone invaded his personal space, though he supposed in Anthea's case he had practically invited her in since he had only one umbrella. "And it doesn't look like it'll stop soon," she scowled up at the sky.

"I could read to you another time," suggested Spencer hopefully. Anthea gave him a look, and he sighed. "Fine, today is fine."

"Today is Sunday and its already passed three P.M., if any serial killers needed to be caught you'd have gotten a call by now," reminded Anthea. "No call means I can annoy you as much as I want until you need to sleep."

"You're not annoying," Spencer shook his head and, following this newfound feeling of comfort, bumped his shoulder with hers. She threw him a bright, if somewhat bemused, smile. "I'll read to you if you want."

"Good. Oh, we're actually pretty close to my apartment," she squinted through the rain and made out the sign a few feet from the ground. "It's about ten minutes. We can hang out there. I have coffee, and it's free."

Spencer chuckled and nodded, allowing Anthea to lead him down the street. They walked quietly, and in no time they were in front of a red brick building. Anthea ushered him into the shade of the porch and threw her hair up into a messy ponytail as she gestured for him to follow her. They ascended the few steps to the lobby, nodded to the doorman, who nodded back, and Anthea continued to lead him to the elevator. She was on the top floor.

"I should probably warn you," her voice drifted into his ears after a long silence, in which she was comfortably checking her phone and Spencer had done likewise, though he had stared at her more often that his phone.

"About what?" he asked. The elevator stopped and they exited. There were only two doors, one on each side of the corridor. Anthea headed towards the one on the right, fishing in her bag for her keys.

"I have a dog," she informed him as she began to unlock the door. "I don't know your take on animals."

Spencer winced. "They don't like me very much."

"Zeus is a softie, he won't say anything. Just stay close," she offered him a comforting smile and opened the door, slipping inside and gesturing for Spencer to follow. He entered hesitantly, but before he could take in anything, a giant blur of brown and black flew from across the room and launched itself at Anthea, barking furiously.

"There's my big boy," cooed Anthea, wrapping her arms around the body of an overly large German shepherd dog. Zeus settled his front paws onto her shoulders, almost in the form of a hug, and barked again, nuzzling the side of her neck. Almost immediately, his gaze snapped towards Spencer. He growled.

"Bad boy," scolded Anthea. She smacked him on the head, and he turned to look at her with a look that could only be described at puzzled. Spencer held his breath and stood still, a respectable distance away. German shepherds were known for their protectiveness over family members, and clearly the dog considered Anthea family. He dropped back onto all fours and stalked towards Spencer and growled again, but didn't advance. He merely sniffed his shoes and then, almost reluctantly, turned away and returned to the corner of the room he had sprung from. Spencer let out a sigh of relief. Anthea giggled.

"He was probably looking for my scent on you," she explained. Spencer shrugged out of his jacket and Anthea took it, hanging it up on the rack next to the door and taking the wet umbrella from his hands as well. "I guess walking in the rain together helped. He'll warm up to you eventually. Coffee?" she was already heading towards another room.

"Yes, please," answered Spencer, following her carefully. The apartment was decent sized. The entrance was just wide enough for two people to stand side-by-side, and the kitchen was at the end of the short hall. To the right was an open door that clearly led to a sitting-room, and to the left was another door which he assumed was probably her bedroom.

The kitchen was large, with marble countertops, an island with four bar-stools, and cabinets that were painted a sunny yellow, matching the leatherette of the stools. His umbrella was open and resting against the refrigerator in one corner, drying. Anthea was fiddling with a coffee machine near the sink, and she gestured for Spencer to have a seat while she rummaged in a cupboard over her head. When she turned around, Spencer chuckled when he saw the sugar-bowl in her hand.

"I'm no barista, but I think I can get your order right," she rolled her eyes and sat opposite him, pushing a plate to the centre of the table. "Cheesecake?"

Spencer was about to decline, but at the last minute he thought better of it. It looked quite good, and Anthea was already breaking a piece off with her spoon and eating it straight from the plate. He took the spoon she offered and had a bite, resisting the urge to moan once he had it in his mouth.

"This is good," he managed to say, after about four more bites.

Anthea laughed. "Thanks. I made it last night, I'm glad I'm not eating it alone."

"If you make this often, I'm sleeping on your coach," said Spencer mock-seriously, taking another bite.

Anthea laughed again and gave him a warm smile, turning to the coffee machine to pour them two mugs. Spencer grabbed the cake, she picked up the mugs and led him through an arch-way to the sitting-room. It was just as cosy as the kitchen, with two plush armchairs, a squishy sofa in the centre with a coffee-table in front of it, an average sized TV with a DVD played lying on the floor in front of it, two towering book-cases on either side of the TV and finally a large wicker basket with blankets and pillows spilling out of it, where Zeus was laying and watching Spencer critically.

"Don't mind him," said Anthea, rolling her eyes at her dog. "He's ridiculously protective, so he's the only reason my parents were okay with me moving so far away and living on my own. He also reminds me of my brother."

Spencer chuckled and sat down on the armchair. It was ridiculously comfortable. Anthea sat on the sofa, on the side closest to him, and tucked her feet under her. She had taken off her jacket and shoes at some point as well, and he was struck by how small she looked, in her grey sweater-dress with her head resting on her folded arms. She smiled. "Ready when you are, Dr. Reid."

Spencer sighed, but didn't argue. The book was lying on the table in front of him. She had obviously guessed where he would sit. He picked it up willingly enough and flipped it open, noting that it was an early edition, and probably a rare one as well. A quick glance sideways showed that Anthea was blowing the steam from her mug, so Spencer quickly took a sip from his own, the temperature not bothering him, and began to read.

Three hours later, they were both curled up in the middle of the couch, and Zeus' head was in Anthea's lap as she peered over Spencer's shoulder at the text. There was no break in his reading. They weren't close enough to touch, but they were close enough for him to decide that her body heat was a comforting temperature, and one he wouldn't mind having so close more often.


	4. 3

**Three months later**

"I am _so_ sorry," panted Anthea as she slid into the chair opposite Spencer. "I completely lost track of time and –" an abrupt sneeze cut her off, and she groaned. "– and I think I'm sick."

Her normally perfect hair was in complete disarray, and slightly wet, probably from her morning shower. There was no make-up on her face, even though Spencer knew she preferred to wear lipsticks in various berry toned colours, if nothing else. Her trench coat was beige, and her boots were black: he had never seen her mismatched before. "And you overslept," he noted.

"I wish. I haven't slept all night," Anthea accepted the glass of ice-cold coffee he pushed towards her with a grateful look and took a large sip. "I've been stuck in meetings with professors and they've given me two seminars to lead so I've been trying to prepare for those for four days."

"Is that bad?" he asked in confusion.

When Anthea giggled, he realized he had once again displayed his complete disregard for social norms and the habits of normal people, and he winced. He expected her to poke fun at him, but she still looked amused. "Not if your reading speed is over five hundred words in five minutes, I'll admit," she joked easily. "But I prefer all my reading to be done in bed, preferably with Zeus as a foot-warmer, so this is really cramping my style."

Spencer finally offered her a hesitant smile. "You're secretly enjoying it."

"Of course!" she looked oddly delighted that he seemed to have caught on to her. "But it's _killing_ me." She sneezed again.

Spencer frowned in concern. Anthea was about as health conscious as the average twenty-nine-year-old woman, but the bags under her eyes, the pale tinge to her skin and her slightly bloodshot eyes told a different story. "You need a nap. And something that's not so cold," he nodded towards her drink.

Anthea screwed up her nose thoughtfully. "I could never get into hot coffee. It just made me sleepy."

Spencer shook his head. "At least eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

"Anthea." He wasn't surprised at how disapproving his tone sounded anymore. He ended up using it a lot with her. She would walk in the rain without an umbrella, trip over ledges while entering restaurants, and more recently she had taken to forgetting her keys in the lock while entering her apartment.

" _Fine_ ," she sighed and picked up the menu. "What do you recommend?"

Three hours, two cups of herbal tea and a full breakfast later, Spencer could tell Anthea was about to keel over from exhaustion, even though she actively took part in their conversation as she always did. They had just finished discussing the newest fad that Anthea was going through - South Asian writers and postcolonial literature - when a large yawn interrupted her rant on British rule in the nineteenth century.

"And on that note, I should walk you home," he sighed. Anthea pouted, but it was a testament to how tired she was that she didn't even bother to protest. Spencer squeezed her shoulder comfortingly as they walked out together - touching her was no longer a chore - and the bright smile that lit up her face almost made up for the fact that he wasn't sure when he would see her again.

"You could come in, you know," she pointed out finally when they were only a few minutes away. "Zeus won't bug you."

Spencer couldn't help but snort. "Zeus doesn't _bug_ me. That would imply I find him small and annoying. I actually find him terrifying."

"I know," Anthea snickered. "It's so cute how you cower behind me every time I open the door."

His stomach did a strange flip when she called him cute, but he was too busy firing back a retort to dwell on it too much. They kept up an easy banter on their walk, and Spencer consented to coming inside for a while. There was a train he could take home if he left after roughly an hour.

"I don't hear Zeus barking," Anthea frowned as she neared her door. "That's weird."

Spencer nodded politely, silently praying the dog would be asleep. To say Zeus had warmed up to his mistress' new friend would be an understatement, but he didn't growl at him anymore, which he took as a sign of reluctant acceptance. He did make it a point to try and shuffle in between them if they ever sat too close together, however. Considering how hard Spencer was trying to overcome his aversion to physical contact, specifically with Anthea, it was a little annoying.

But it made her laugh, so he dealt with it.

Anthea unlocked her door and stepped inside, beckoning Spencer in after her. There was no blur on four legs to greet her, and her eyebrows shot up.

"Zeus?" she called out, the slight panic not lost on Spencer as he followed her, closing the door and dropping her keys onto the table they frequently rested on. He noted the lack of noise as well, and immediately felt uneasy. Anthea was clearly experiencing the same sense of something not being quite right. She hadn't even bothered to take off her coat or shoes. He could hear her in the living room now. "Where are you – _Oh!_ "

Her gasp was one of surprise, not fright, but Spencer acted on an instinct he didn't he know he possessed. Within seconds, he had crossed the small hallway and stepped into the room, pushing her behind him. His hand went to his gun, again an instinct he hadn't realized was drilled into him to the extent it clearly had been. It took him a few more seconds to realize what he had done, and he blinked when he did. He was holding her arm very tightly behind him, his body positioned protectively in front of hers. They still weren't touching, except for his grip on her arm, but her body heat encompassed him from all sides and it took him a while to realize there was clearly nothing to worry about. Zeus was lounging in his bed in front of the television, which was showing a football game, and he would have never been calm if there was a threat to Anthea: Spencer had seen the dog accompany her to her front door every time the doorbell rang, and he would growl dutifully at whoever was on the other side of it, be it someone delivering food or a next door neighbour. Clearly, the man sitting on the sofa with a friendly grin on his face and his feet on the coffee table was no threat.

"Spencer? Hey, don't worry," Anthea's voice jerked him out of his observations. Her voice was soft, despite the slight hoarseness that came along with her cold. "That's just my older brother," a warm hand touched his lightly as she gently extracted her arm from his grip and stepped out from behind him. She squeezed his hand, threw him a smile and then finally turned to the other man. "You idiot!" she scolded immediately. "You could have called!"

"Sorry, Thea, but you wouldn't be introducing me to your new friend if I had," answered the man as he got up. He held open his arms in an obvious invitation, and Anthea huffed before launching herself across the room, allowing him to encompass her in a bear hug that made her laugh. He was tall, broad, and fair, with blonde hair and blue eyes, a direct opposite to Anthea's slight build, auburn hair, dark eyes and tan skin. The similarities in body language, and even the clear comfort with physical contact showed Spencer that they were related, but other than the identical looks of affection on their faces as they looked at each other, there were no physical similarities. Was she -

His thoughts were interrupted. Zeus had gotten up and trotted towards Spencer, who still hadn't moved, pausing long enough to sniff his hand before sitting down next to him, as if his presence was a show of support. He didn't even try to bite him, but Spencer quickly put his hand into his pocket, unwilling to test the new-found acceptance. Anthea looked back and laughed again at the sight.

"I think that's his way of showing Robbie that he likes you," she commented, letting go of her brother to come back to Spencer's side. She scratched Zeus behind the ears affectionately, and the dog licked her hand. "Spencer, this is my brother, Robert Grayson. Robbie, this is Dr. Spencer Reid, a friend of mine."

"Doctor? Friend?" Robbie raised an eyebrow as he came to stand in front of the trio, but offered his hand willingly enough. In milliseconds, Spencer made his decision and accepted it, just before he saw Anthea shake her head discreetly at her brother from the corner of his eye. The surprise radiating off of her was almost tangible, and Spencer was happy to have surprised her, but slightly chagrined that she felt the need to excuse him in front of her relatives. Fortunately, Robbie didn't seem to notice, so Spencer decided to make conversation. It was a day for firsts, it seemed.

"I'm, uh, not a medical doctor," he clarified. "I met your sister at Georgetown."

"You're a student or a professor?" Robbie narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Spencer could feel himself break out into sweat. Were all older brothers this protective of their sisters?"

"Not that it's any of your business," interjected Anthea finally, her own eyes narrowed at her brother. "He was at the recruitment fair."

"Recruiting? For what?" Robbie's tone remained hostile.

Anthea hesitated. She glanced at Spencer, and he saw her desire to tell her brother what it was exactly that he did, but she was clearly leaving it up to him. Normally, Spencer would have stuttered and stammered his way out of such a confrontation, but Anthea was different. So he took a deep breath. "I work for the FBI. Behavioural Analysis Unit." And he waited for the inevitable demand that he leave Robbie's sister's house immediately.

It never came. "Oh," almost immediately, Robbie's expression cleared and he grinned. Spencer blinked. Wasn't his career choice _odd_? Why was this man smiling at the prospect of his sister befriending an FBI agent? "Well, you should have said something."

Spencer opened his mouth, the confusion clear on his face, but Anthea nudged him. He looked at her and saw that she was smiling. "Robbie's a cop, back in Chicago," she said, her tone reassuring as she made her way towards the kitchen. "Coffee?"

"No sugar!" called back Robbie. He collapsed into one of the armchairs and gestured for Spencer to have a seat on the sofa. Still trying to wrap his head around what was happening, Spencer obeyed automatically. "17th District, Albany Park. Heard a lot about the BAU, you guys helped the South Side guys a few times, right? And Uncle Mike says he knows David Rossi."

"I met him too!" chimed in Anthea's voice from the next room.

"Yeah, like you met the governor when you were sixteen!" Robbie rolled his eyes and shook his head at Spencer. "She's an exaggerator. You know Rossi?"

"Yeah, uh, we've been to Chicago a few times. And, Rossi, he's my team-mate," said Spencer, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. It was a habit now. He was _always_ awkward with new people, but at least Robbie was still smiling at him. "He's the one who introduced us. Your uncle was there too." He neglected to mention Morgan's involvement with the South Side cases.

"Hmm, so Thea wasn't lying?" Robbie frowned in though and put his feet back on the coffee table, only to have them knocked off when Zeus jumped over the table and onto the sofa. "Whoa!" he yelped and threw a cushion at the large dog, who merely barked and settled down next to Spencer. "Easy there, killer. No jumping on the furniture."

"He's my dog, not yours, Robbie, if he wants to jump on the furniture he can," said Anthea, entering the room with a tray carrying two mugs of coffee and a glass of water. She handed one to her brother and gave the other one to Spencer, sinking onto the sofa next to him and allowing Zeus to lay his head on her lap. "What are you doing here, anyway? You didn't have any vacation days."

"I came to see you," Robbie shrugged. Anthea sipped her water and merely raised her eyebrows. Suddenly, he grinned wickedly. "When were you going to tell me you're dating an FBI agent?"

They both choked.

"We're not dating," spluttered Anthea, while Spencer tried control his gasps for breath. Anthea maintained her glare towards her brother but offered Spencer her water, and he accepted it without thinking, taking a few gulps to ease his coughing. Once he was done, he realized he had drunk from the same glass as her, and he was amazed at himself. Did _no_ rules apply when it came to her?

Four hours later, when he was laughing and eating take-out Chinese food with Anthea and Robbie, complete with Zeus sniffing at his side for left-overs, he decided that no, they didn't. Not with her.


	5. 4

**Four months later**

" _Morning!_ " Anthea's voice was cheery over the phone. Spencer ran a hand through his hair, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It made no sense to him, but hearing her voice always brightened his mood. It was barely ten, and she sounded like she'd been up for hours. " _What's up?_ "

"Hey. Nothing, nothing really." Good mood or not, this was hard. Spencer closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. It throbbed uncomfortably. "I just got back from a case."

" _I remember. Texas, right?_ " he heard a door slam in the back, and she cursed " _Sorry, I almost spilled coffee on my new shoes. Did you get back this morning?_ "

"Yeah, I did," Spencer tried again. "Listen, I need to talk to you."

" _Sure. When do I see you?_ " her voice was still perky. " _I finally finished that Nietzsche collection, and I've been dying to talk about it ever since. My friend Alice said if I try to bring it up with her again she'll stop having coffee with me on the days that you're away._ "

"Yeah, that's just it, I, uh," Spencer sighed and decided to rip the proverbial bandage off quickly. "I got a little knocked up in Texas, I won't be able to see you for a few days."

There was silence at the other end, and then: " _What_?" Her voice was grave, and soft. He had never heard her use that tone before. It was the tone his team sometimes used when he had spent time in the hospital, it was the tone Maeve had used when she had told him about her stalker, it was the tone he could remember his mother using if he ever ended up scraping his knees on those rare days out in the park. She was concerned, and she was afraid.

The ache in his chest intensified and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to regain control before speaking. "I'll be fine," he murmured eventually. He wanted to reassure her, but his tone was half-hearted. His headache was getting worse. "The arrest just went a little south. You know it's embarrassing when I have to use anything other than my brain."

She didn't laugh at his weak joke. " _What happened to you?_ " her voice was still soft.

"Concussion, a few bruises and broken ribs," he winced and pushed himself off the wall, finally trusting himself enough to make his way towards where his car was parked outside the FBI building. "I can go home, but I can't get around easily for a while, so I –"

" _Spencer_ , _if you have a concussion you really shouldn't be alone,_ " she sighed.

"I know exactly what to do in order to avoid falling into a coma, don't worry."

" _Can't one of your friends –"_

"The team's busy, Anthea," he exhaled quietly. "They all have families."

" _Oh_ ," her tone stated that she didn't like his answer. " _Well,_ _I could come over? I have classes for a few hours, but I –"_

"You have your seminar tomorrow and I know you haven't prepared anything for it," interrupted Spencer gently. "We talked about it two days ago the last time I called you, remember? You were rambling about Marlowe and Shakespeare and conspiracy theories."

 _"_ _Yeah, I was_ ," she sighed. " _I hate the thought of you being alone while you're hurt, though."_

"I've been hurt worse." She had no idea.

" _I guess so, but that was before I –"_ abruptly, she stopped talking. Spencer frowned. That was odd. What had she been going to say? Before she... what? " _Never mind._ "

"You're not worried, right?" he asked, getting into the car and tossing his bags onto the passenger seat. He didn't know why the thought of _her_ worrying about _him_ made _him_ worry about _her._ This was why he didn't have any friends outside the bureau, he thought to himself grimly. Who else would understand this?

" _If you say you'll be okay, I believe you_ ," her voice was still small. " _Will you at least call me when you're home so I know you arrived safely?_ "

"You'll be in class, or the library by then," he tried to argue. It made no sense to bother her with his phone calls. He enjoyed spending time with her, he thought she was beautiful and smart and everything that was good and sweet, but the idea that she felt the same way was too ridiculous to even entertain. He had thought about it only four times in the four months they had known each other, and he didn't intend to allow himself to dwell on it just because she was worried about him. So why call her again and again and hear her gentle voice ask him if he was okay?

" _It doesn't matter, Spencer. I want you to call me_."

He sighed. "I'll text you," he said finally.

Anthea was quiet for a few seconds. _"You know how to text?"_

Spencer's lips twitched. "Oh, you're funny."

" _I should have been a comedian."_

"Not that funny."

 _"_ _Okay, you win. Get going, and_ call _me when you're home. Are you sure you don't want company?"_

Something in her tone made him pause. He was going to assure her he was fine alone, but he didn't want her to think he was outright rejecting her offer to stay with him because he didn't want her there. "If you're talking about your company, you know I always enjoy it," he said hesitantly. "But you have work to do and I don't want you to miss anything because my physical training is lacking and someone punched me."

" _The way to get a girl off your back is not to tell her you got punched at work_ ," said Anthea dryly, but the concern was still apparent in her voice. " _Just call me when you're home, Spencer. Drive safe, okay?"_

"I will," he assured her, and hung up. He started the car and backed out of the lot, keeping his mind clear and focusing on the road. He drove slowly, almost excruciatingly so, but the dull throbbing behind his eyes was only going to get worse, especially without medication. The best therapy would be tea and sleep, if he could find a comfortable position to lie in with his aching ribs. The couch had worked last time…

Twenty minutes later than it normally took, he pulled into the parking of his apartment complex and breathed a sigh of relief. His ribs still hurt, and the morning sun was annoying his eyes and triggering his headache, but otherwise he was okay. He decided to leave his go-bag in the car. He could get it when he was feeling better tomorrow. He slung his messenger bag over his shoulder, wincing at the movement, and reached for his cell-phone that was lying on the passenger seat.

Spencer hesitated. He could call her now. Technically, he was home, and he didn't want to bother her too much. A quick glance at his watch showed that her classes would begin any minute. Better for her to be five minutes late than deal with a buzzing phone in between lectures. Taking a deep breath, he dialled quickly.

She picked up on the second ring. " _You made it?_ " she was speaking normally, and there was no noise behind her.

"Yeah, I'm in the parking lot," Spencer frowned. "Aren't you in class?"

" _I'm sitting in reception waiting for the professor_ ," she replied easily. Too easily. She was lying. He opened his mouth to say something, to point it out, but thought better of it. What if she wasn't lying, and she took his comment to mean that he wanted her to come see him? He would be lying to himself if he said he didn't want her here, but he knew how important her degree was to her, and he refused to get in the way. Dating an FBI agent would definitely get in the way, and finding out that said FBI agent had feelings for her would only confuse her. She wasn't stupid, she was actually uncommonly smart. If he wasn't careful, she would know that he spent most of his free time daydreaming about when he'd see her next.

" _Spencer_?" her voice sounded far away. " _Are you okay?"_

"Yeah, sorry," he blinked, cursing himself for getting lost in thought again. "What were you saying?"

" _I really don't think you should be alone,"_ Anthea sounded even more worried now.

He shook his head to clear it. "Don't worry about it, I'm heading upstairs now. I'll call you later?"

" _Yeah, sure_ ," she still sounded worried. " _Bye."_

Spencer said his goodbyes and hung up. Sighing, he stared at his screen for a few moments before getting out of the car and heading towards the main door. Adjusting his bag and stuffing his phone into his coat pocket, he trudged his way up the stairs. By the time he reached his floor, he was breathing heavily. He leaned against the wall, and saw something that immediately made him freeze.

There was a huddled figure leaning against the wall just opposite his door, with a plastic bag and a black handbag lying on the floor next to them. Frowning, Spencer inched forward slowly, one hand clutching his keys and the other automatically reaching for his gun. The figure turned around when they heard movement, and Spencer let out a sigh of relief when he saw who it was.

And then he frowned.

"Anthea?"

"Hi," she tucked her hair behind her ears. It was in a messy bun that was half falling out. Her black coat was the one she usually wore on her way to the library, when she knew she would be spending extra time there and needed to stay warm, and there were a pair of rectangular glasses perched on top of her head. Her fingers were tapping restlessly against her thighs. She bit her lip. "Surprise?"

Spencer unfroze to cross the hallway quickly and worked on unlocking his door. "What are you doing here?" he realized how rude he sounded as soon as he spoke, and immediately winced. "Sorry, I meant –"

"No, it's okay," she shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. "I look like a stalker, I know. I swear, I'm not that creepy. I remembered your address from when you told me about that book-store across the road, and one of your neighbours buzzed me in. I may have told her I'm your girlfriend," she grimaced. "I think we'll have to break-up before she can ask you about it."

"Oh," Spencer blinked. Mrs. Hoffman was nosy, but not enough to mess with the "doctor" living across the hall. She still asked him for advice for her rheumatism. "That's okay, I guess, but why are you here? Not that I don't want you here," he added hastily. "I mean, you being here is okay, it's great, but I thought you were at Georgetown. In the reception," he added pointedly.

Anthea shrugged, unrepentant. "I knew you didn't believe me anyway."

"I didn't," Spencer ran a hand through his head and leaned against the wall opposite her. "I'm serious though. You had classes."

She nodded. "Yeah, I called in sick."

Spencer frowned. "You're not sick."

"But you are."

"Technically, I'm –"

"Save the technicalities."

He sighed. "Anthea, I'm okay."

"You can barely stand without leaning against the wall, I could hear you panting two floors up when you climbed those stairs from all the way over here, _and_ –" he felt her fingers brush through his hair before he realized what was happening. She was touching the sore spot at the back of his head, but it wasn't sore anymore. Her fingers were pleasantly cold, and it soothed the ache, but the rest of him was now burning. How did she do that? "– and you have a duck egg growing out of the back of your head. Have you had any pain medication?"

"I, uh," he stammered, her touch momentarily derailing his thoughts, and then he realized what she was asking him. "No, I – I don't have that."

"Don't have it?" Anthea frowned in confusion. "What, you don't take pain meds?" he shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. He saw her eyes widen with confusion, but she didn't push. Instead, she shrugged and gestured to the bags lying on the floor. "Well, okay. I brought you food that's easy on the stomach, and I plan to do most of my seminar work while you rest. I won't talk, unless it's to ask if you have coffee, and if you don't I'll go get some. I'll sit on the floor outside if I have to, but you're not staying here alone. Okay?"

"So you skipped a relatively important day of lectures and study-time to come and babysit me?" asked Spencer. He needed clarification.

Anthea nodded. "Yes, that's right."

" _Why_?"

Anthea bit her lip and stepped closer. She reached up a hand and Spencer felt her fingers brush his cheek. He knew he had a bruise there as well. "Because." And that was that. She pushed past him and entered his apartment, shrugging out of her coat and kicking off her shoes near the entrance and drifting towards the kitchen. Spencer stared after her in confusion for a few moments before entering behind her, shaking his head.

"You need to eat," he heard her say from the kitchen, as he dumped his bag and gun in the living-room and made his way to the sofa. "You didn't get any teeth knocked out, did you?"

"I didn't," said Spencer, smiling a little. "But I ate on the plane, save it for later," he added, collapsing onto the sofa. He groaned at the abrupt contact, but didn't bother moving. The pain would recede eventually. He closed his eyes and rested his head against a cushion, concentrating on his breathing.

However, his grunt had obviously been loud, since he heard Anthea's quick footsteps enter the room. Her hand brushed against his hair, but he didn't open his eyes. It felt nice. "Are you sure you don't want anything for the pain?" her voice was soft.

"I'm sure," he sighed. He would have to explain his aversion to her eventually, he could see that now. She had an uncanny ability of knowing when he wanted her around, and of materializing exactly when that moment occurred. And since he wanted her around _all_ the time, it would be wise if she knew what she was getting herself into.

But he didn't want to tell her now. Her fingers were stroking his hair soothingly, and he couldn't remember ever enjoying a feeling more.

He must have fallen asleep, because when he finally opened his eyes there was a throw that normally was folded at the end of the couch – a present from JJ and Will – wrapped around him and Anthea's touch was gone, replaced by her dark auburn hair directly in his line of sight. She was leaning against the couch near his head, flipping through one of her books and sipping a cup of coffee.

His movement alerted her that he was awake, because she turned around and gave him a small smile. "Hey, sleeping beauty."

Spencer smiled back, but it came off as a grimace. His head was killing him. "Did I fall asleep on you?"

"Yup."

"Sorry about that."

"Don't be. You looked like you needed it, and I got some work done," she smiled reassuringly and stood up, moving towards the kitchen. "You should eat now, it's almost five. Your phone rang twice, but I didn't answer," her voice got further away, and he heard her open his fridge and rummage through the plastic bags she had brought with her. "You should call back."

"On it," Spencer suppressed a yawn and picked up his phone. He had two calls from JJ, along with a concerned text asking if he was okay. He quickly replied, assuring her he was fine and he would see her on Monday. She replied immediately saying to call if he needed anything, and extending an invitation for dinner the next day. Spencer agreed, and looked up in time to see Anthea enter the room with a plate of sandwiches and a bowl of soup, which she offered him. He laughed when he saw what it was.

"I still don't know why you like this stuff," she grumbled, sinking onto the sofa next to him and grabbing a sandwich for herself. "It looks like something a vampire would enjoy."

"You make it sound so appetizing," joked Spencer, grabbing the spoon she held out and digging into the tomato soup. He had it often, on the rare days they went out for lunch instead of breakfast, and he was oddly pleased that she remembered he liked it.

"I make it sound about as appetizing as it is," she shot back. Spencer chuckled. They ate in silence for a while, and he saw her open a book from the corner of his eye and read, nibbling on her sandwich as she did so. He finished the soup and gabbed another sandwich off the plate on the coffee table, leaning back carefully and glancing over her shoulder. " _The Goblin Emperor,_ " she answered his unspoken question. "Quite good, actually."

"I'll have to borrow it."

"You should," she smiled up at him, and then returned to her book. Knowing there was no point in talking while she read, and since he couldn't stare at her ridiculously, Spencer grabbed a random book off the coffee table – book two in a Stephen King series that Anthea was trying to enjoy – and began to read. He had finished the three-hundred-page book easily when he felt Anthea shift.

"Sorry," he blinked and looked up at her. "Did you want –"

"No, go ahead," she shook her head. "I was going to clean up," she gestured to the crockery lying on the table and picked it up, heading for the kitchen.

"You don't have to do that," protested Spencer, grabbing the bowl from her hands and reaching for the plate. Anthea rolled her eyes and held it behind her, moving away until her back was pressed against the wall. Spencer rolled his eyes. "Anthea, come on."

"You're being ridiculous," huffed Anthea.

"I'm not," he shook his head. "You've done way too much already, and I still have no idea why."

"Spencer, I _like_ cleaning," she insisted. "And what do you mean, you have no idea? You're a genius!"

"I still don't know why you want to help me so much," he confessed. It was true. Anthea bit her lip, and he immediately realized he had said something wrong. "Maybe I shouldn't have –"

"You really have no idea why?" she asked. Her voice was quiet, but her eyes were wide and genuine. She truly wanted to know what he thought. Spencer shook his head, confirming his earlier statement. She sighed, and her warm breath brushed against his face gently. They were very close. In trying to grab the plate, Spencer had basically pressed her up against the wall, his hand enclosing one of her wrists gently. He was about to step back and offer her some personal space, when Anthea tilted her head up and caught his lips in a soft kiss.

It lasted barely a minute, but in those few moments Spencer experienced a sensory overload. _Everything_ was on fire, including his hands, one of which was still holding her wrist and the other had somehow found its way to her waist, holding her trapped between himself and the wall. The bowl in his hands had slipped to the floor, fortunately landing on the carpet and making a dull _thud_ noise that they both ignored. Her lips were soft, but firm, unyielding against his mouth. He could feel her free hand run through his hair, and he was sure his headache was gone by now. He could have stayed like that forever, in fact he _wanted_ to, but the need to breathe overcame it, and he drew back a few inches, breathing deeply.

Immediately, Anthea's eyes flew open and she clasped a hand over her mouth. The plate also fell to the ground, but Spencer barely noticed. The look of horror on her face was distracting him. "Oh my God," she whispered. Her eyes were wide with fright. "I am _so_ sorry, Spencer, I have no idea what came over me."

"Anthea –"

"I shouldn't have done that, Spencer, I know it's totally inexcusable. I mean –"

"Anthea, listen –"

"– the very idea that _you_ would like _me_ is insane, I should have –"

"What do you –"

"– stayed away, I can't believe I invaded your personal space like that, its completely idiotic of me, I am so –"

She was rambling. She had _kissed_ him, and judging by her dilated pupils, accelerated heart-rate and speed of talking, she thought _he_ wouldn't want her and so she was making excuses. The very idea was ridiculous. How could anyone _not_ want someone as perfect as her? Spencer did want her, but would she want him once she learned everything? Her body language showed she was a few seconds away from running for the door. They needed to talk first, at least, before they could decide on anything. But she was already trying to move away, her face a deep red thanks to embarrassment, so Spencer decided upon the least logical, but probably the best, option.

He kissed her.

It wasn't a chaste, innocent kiss, like the one she had given him. It was slow, drawn out, and it made his stomach erupt with butterflies. He deepened the kiss immediately, and once again his senses exploded as soon as he tasted her. He would never be able to enjoy coffee the same way again, he realized dimly. Judging by the way she had pressed up against him, he was sure she was done talking. He pulled back, and then kissed her again.

And again.

And again.

He had lost count now. Every time his brain told him it was time to put some distance between them so he could talk to her, which is what he had wanted once she stopped talking, he would move his head back, stare at her for less than three seconds, and then one of them would close the distance between them again. It was a vicious cycle that he was quite enjoying. Her lips were soft, and her arms were wrapped around his neck, forcing him to angle his head down slightly due to the drastic disparity of their heights. One of his hands was resting on the small of her back, and the other had found its way to her cheek. He had never touched her face before. Her skin was flawless, but there were tell-tale marks of small scars that seemed out of character for an English professor to have accumulated in her short life.

"Hey," her whisper against his mouth drew him out of his stupor, and he blinked at her lazily, their lips still brushing. Anthea was smiling, a little dreamily. "So, I'm not insane?"

It took him ten seconds to figure out exactly what she was saying, and a further twenty to articulate his response. Kissing her was messing with his head. "You are," he murmured. "But I'm insane too," and he caught her lips in another kiss.

"So, this isn't a one-time thing?" she interrupted their kiss again, and Spencer was about to ask her why she kept doing that, but then he realized why. He had been so interested in getting her to stop talking so he could kiss her again he hadn't realized that her fears were very real, at least to her, and they needed addressing.

"Sorry," he said immediately, trying to put some distance between them, but Anthea didn't let him go. He frowned. "Don't you want to talk?"

"Talk. I'm fine here," she shrugged. Their faces were still very close.

Spencer knew he should give her a speech, or some sort of grand romantic gesture, or something similar to ease her fears, but he couldn't, because he had no idea if it was a one-time thing or not. He liked her, enough to date her, but also enough to want to stay friends with her if nothing worked out. "This is whatever you want it to be," he said finally.

"Me?" Anthea looked confused.

"I'm not a normal guy, Anthea," said Spencer slowly. "I've never had a normal… thing with a normal girl. I don't know how to. But I do like you," he added. She was biting her lip, which meant she expected this conversation to go badly. "I _really_ like you."

"And I really like you," she shrugged. Her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck, and Spencer shivered. Anthea smirked. "So, whatever I want, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Will you read to me?"

Spencer blinked. "Huh?"

"I brought that Italian sonnets collection I told you I wanted to buy," Anthea untangled her fingers from his hair and gently pushed him back, diving towards the sofa and grabbing a book from her bag that was lying on the floor. She held it up. "So, will you?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Spencer ran a hand through his hair awkwardly and made his way towards the sofa. He sat down and accepted the book, leaning back and almost jumping out of his skin when Anthea rested her head against his chest, curling into his side. His arm wrapped around her shoulders automatically, and she grinned, angling her face up so her lips caught his cheek.

"You can take me out on a date once you're feeling better," she murmured, and then settled back into his arm. Spencer nodded, then shook his head slightly to clear it, flipping open the book to a random page. He rested his cheek against the top of her head and began to read.


	6. 5

**Five months later**

"You're holding it wrong."

"You're laughing at me."

"I'm trying not to," Anthea snickered and took a bite from her own plate before picking up another piece of chicken with her chopsticks and offering it to Spencer. He opened his mouth obligingly, but the frown on his face gave away how he was really feeling.

"You said you were a good teacher," he said sulkily, picking up a fork and pushing his food around his plate.

"My boyfriend, the super-genius FBI profiler with numerous PhDs, doesn't know how to use chopsticks," Anthea took another bite to stop herself from laughing. "That statement doesn't sound true until you see it in action."

Spencer groaned and leaned back against the back of the sofa. "Just because I'm an FBI agent doesn't mean I know how to use chopsticks."

"I meant the boyfriend part."

"Oh," he blinked. "That's true. I'm still waiting for you to run away."

"Right back atcha."

Spencer rolled his eyes. They had gone over it a hundred times, and every time they arrived at the same conclusion – they cared about each other too much to _not_ do anything about the electricity buzzing in the room every time they were together, but he had been very clear when he had said it would be whatever she wanted. If it got to be too much, she had an out. Every time he said it, she glared at him and he would have to coax her to speak to him again.

This time, she seemed to be in a better mood and let his comment slide. They ate in silence, and Anthea was picking up dishes and taking them to the sink when Spencer's phone started ringing from the kitchen. She bit her lip, and he offered her a wan smile before getting up to go answer it. He came back less than a minute later.

"I have to go," he said apologetically.

Anthea sighed. "Where to this time?"

"Not sure," he picked up his things from where they lay scattered around her living-room: shoes, scarf, coat. He left the book he had bought a few days ago, a new edition of _War and Peace_ to facilitate Anthea's current obsession with Russian literature, and shook his head when she tried to hand it to him. "You can keep it until I get back."

She shook her head. "I don't know how long that'll be."

"It won't be long," he took the book from her and replaced it on the coffee table, tugging on her hand gently to help her up. Anthea gave him a small smile and accepted the hug he offered, burying her face against his sweater and sighing deeply.

"Not long?" she confirmed, looking up at him with the tell-tale worry in her eyes that had become a staple now.

Spencer kissed her forehead. "Not long," he assured her. "I should get going, though. The office is further away from here than it is from my apartment."

"And you don't want them knowing that you weren't home."

Spencer froze. Anthea looked up at him curiously, and his eyes were wary. "That's not true," his tone was completely unconvincing.

Anthea snorted. "Spencer, I don't _mind_ that your friends don't know about me. We've been together for one month, you're allowed to tell them at your own pace."

"I –"

"Please tell me this isn't a part of your whole _I'm not a normal guy so I can't have a normal relationship_ thing," Anthea rolled her eyes and pushed him towards the door. "Go and save lives, Spencer. I'll still be here when you come back, probably twenty dollars poorer since there's a book fair tomorrow, but otherwise mostly undamaged."

Spencer sighed. "I'll call you when I get time."

"A simple text will do if you don't get time," said Anthea. She kissed his cheek again, and let out a deep breath. "Okay, I'm ready. You can go be a hero now."

Spencer chuckled.

 **!**

 _"_ _Do you have to go?"_

"I _should_ go."

 _"_ _No, but do you_ have _to?"_

Spencer smiled into the phone. "It's only been a few days."

 _"_ _Five days."_

"I've been on two cases that lasted longer than that since we started dating," he reminded her, sinking down onto the bed. Anthea huffed, he could practically hear her frowning through the phone. The first five days of the case had gone by without anything to report, and it was making him anxious. But he wasn't worried about the case. Well, he _was,_ but for once he had something else to worry about now. Anthea was incredibly patient, but he had detected the slight angst in her voice when he called her before going to sleep.

" _Both local, we had breakfast every day all through those weeks_ ," she pointed out.

"It's just five days, Anthea."

" _Its five days too long, Spencer,"_ she shot back.

Spencer sighed. "It won't take much longer. We're just waiting for all this information to make sense."

Anthea hummed in response, but she wasn't happy, he could tell. It was odd. He had never realized how dependent they had become on each other in one month until he had landed in New York. They saw each other every day, even if it was just for a cup of coffee in the morning before she had to study and he had to work, but it was enough. He spent half his free time at her apartment, and he was sure she had left her spare umbrella in his hall closet some time ago. Not seeing her every day was weird.

They hung up soon after, and Spencer hoped they could be done within a few days, so he could make it up to her. He had no idea how he was supposed to do that, of course. He didn't understand the use of grand, romantic gestures, and he had zero experience with them. Anthea wasn't the type to find those kinds of things appealing anyway. She'd probably want to sit and talk or read for an evening. Still, he decided to take the weekend off to figure out how to combat her sudden bad mood.

 **!**

"You bought me a book?" Anthea sounded amused and touched as she picked up the canvas bag lying on her coffee table.

Spencer resisted the urge to blush. "I didn't know what else to get you," he admitted sheepishly. "If you don't want it –" he immediately stopped talking when her eyes shot up to meet his, a frown on her face.

"Of course I _want_ it," she scolded him as she picked up the book, still in its bag, and sat down next to him on the couch. She offered him the coffee he didn't remember asking for and he took it mutely, a warm feeling settling in the pit of his stomach when he saw the way she was cradling the bag, as if it contained something valuable. "I just don't know why you got it for me. Did I forget some sort of anniversary?" she was teasing, but she sounded unsure.

Spencer shook his head. "I just wanted to," was all he said, but inwardly he was glad. Clearly, she wasn't upset anymore.

"Well, that's very sweet of you," Anthea rested her head against his shoulder idly, and Spencer was proud that he didn't flinch. In fact, he drew an arm around her almost without thinking about it, and from the corner of her eye he saw her smile. "Should I see what it is now?"

"Go on."

She slipped a hand inside and brought out the book, her eyes widening when she read the cover. "Oh, Spencer, you didn't," she whispered, touching the worn leather lovingly.

"You said you used to love it so I did some research," he admitted. She still hadn't looked up, so he started rambling. "I couldn't find the first edition, but this is early twentieth century. I've been told the first editions looked exactly like this, which could either be a sales tactic or just a really weird publishing trick back in the day, but I'm inclined to believe the latter because –" Anthea squeezed his hand gently, her eyes still glued to the book but her actions indicated that he didn't need to defend himself. Spencer sighed and rested his cheek against the top of her head, her hair tickling his chin. "Do you like it?"

"You found a second edition of _Just So Stories_ ," she murmured, opening the book carefully and staring at the title page. "I told you I used to read them as a kid the first day I met you and I lost my copy when I moved. You remember that?"

Spencer didn't feel the need to remind her of his eidetic memory. "So you like it," he said, the relief evident in his voice.

"I absolutely love it. This is honestly the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me," she turned to face him, a brilliant smile on her face that made him feel warm inside. " _Thank_ you, Spencer."

Spencer shook his head. "I wanted to give you something, you don't have to thank me."

"You didn't need to go through so much trouble to get me a rare edition though," she persisted.

"I wanted to," he repeated.

As if sensing his uncomfortableness if she pushed the issue, Anthea let it go, only giving him another smile before curling up against his chest and opening the book. Spencer put his arms around her immediately, marvelling at her uncanny ability to know exactly what to say and how to say it around him. He was so used to people either taking offense at what he said or making him talk about things he didn't want to that Anthea's behaviour was comforting, even if he hadn't known her for too long.

"You know I'm adopted, right?"

Her sudden statement was a shock, to say the least. Spencer blinked. "What?"

"You've met Robbie, you know he's not my biological brother," Anthea angled her head up, catching his eye. She didn't look troubled, but her face was slightly reserved. "You knew, right?"

"I suspected," Spencer shrugged. He _had_ suspected. The lack of physical similarities was one thing, but there were other factors to consider. It hadn't taken him long to figure it out.

His words seemed to confuse Anthea. "You suspected but you didn't know?" she frowned. "Didn't you run a background check on me or something?"

Spencer blinked. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know," she shrugged and turned around in his arms so she was facing him. She looked curious. "My dad always did one for all of Robbie's girlfriends. I just assumed FBI guys did the same."

Spencer looked away awkwardly. "Well, Rossi knows your family, so I didn't really have to," he evaded.

Anthea narrowed her eyes. "You should have, you know."

"Don't normal people in relationships tell each other weird stuff about themselves eventually?" he asked, only half-joking.

"Spencer," she sighed. "We _are_ normal people, your job just isn't normal."

"I know," he soothed. She hated discussing his aversion to their relationship, no matter how many times he said it wasn't about _her_ , it was _him._

Fortunately, she didn't argue with him this time. Almost absently, she reached out a hand and brushed his hair out of his eyes. Her fingers tangled around a lock casually, and she giggled at his confused look. "I like your hair long," she told him, tugging at it teasingly.

"I'll have to cut it eventually," he told her, his lips twitching at her pout.

"I should enjoy it while I can then," her tone was teasing and light as she inched closer, running her fingers through his hair slowly. The fact that she was close enough for him to examine every freckle on her face and make out the flecks of hazel in her dark eyes should have distracted him, but it didn't. At least, it didn't distract him _fully_. And then she tugged on his hair a little harder and before he knew it she was kissing him, her other hand fisting his shirt.

His mind went blissfully blank every time she kissed him, and this time was no exception. His brain decided to use a so-far untouched instinct and he wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her forward until she was situated on his lap, his lips still attached to hers. Anthea's smiled into the kiss, and Spencer took it as a good sign, his movements becoming bolder as his hand cupped her cheek gently, stroking her smooth skin. The hum of appreciation emanating from her throat encouraged him, and he had just managed to release her hair from its messy bun when Zeus barked loudly and pounced on top of the couple, causing Anthea to gasp out a laugh and grab Spencer's shoulders to avoid falling off the sofa.

Zeus sat back on his hind legs, his tongue lolling out of his mouth in an expression that made it seem like he was laughing. Anthea was shaking her head. Spencer broke the silence. "That's one way to say thank you, I guess."

Anthea turned and stared at Spencer, her mouth open slightly at his statement, before succumbing to a fit of laughter. "My dog is worse than a chaperone," she managed to giggle out before burying her face into his chest, a tell-tale blush on her cheeks.

"We're locking him out next time," agreed Spencer. He rubbed her arm soothingly, making a face at Zeus when Anthea wasn't looking. "And the thank you wasn't needed, but appreciated."

"It was a thank you and a distraction tactic," sighed Anthea.

"Distraction?"

"Blame yourself, kissing you is the best distraction I've come up with to date."

Spencer frowned. As flattering as her words were, _what_ did she need to be distracted from? What had they been talking – _Oh_. He blinked. "I figured out you were adopted without a background check," he began, cautiously. "Does it matter?"

"Not to me," Anthea shook her head. "I just figured you should know."

Spencer waited for her to continue, but she didn't, her face still buried in his neck. He stroked her hair gently. "We can talk about it, if you want."

His statement, phrased like an offer rather than a question, seemed to do the trick. Anthea took a deep breath. "Before the Graysons took me in, I was with in a foster home. It wasn't a bad place, but conditions weren't ideal. The Graysons adopted me formally after things went haywire a year after I was in the system. Robbie's been my guardian angel since then, I guess," she smiled fondly at the thought of her brother. "He bought me my first book. He said it was his favourite when he was my age. Which is stupid because we are literally three years apart, but it was _Just So Stories_ , and I lost the copy he got me while moving, God only knows how, and I felt awful about it."

"So having a new copy makes you feel –"

"Don't profile me," her tone was stern, but not annoyed. "We are a normal couple and normal couples talk about their feelings, they don't rely on FBI training to help them analyse their relationship."

What she said wasn't amusing at all, but he still chuckled. "Deal."

Anthea smiled against his neck. "The two most important men in my life have given me the same book. It makes me _feel_ pretty good, Dr. Reid."

"I'm glad."

"Can we get back to the thanking part again?"

"You mean the distracting?" asked Spencer, his eyebrows raised.

Anthea smirked. "Whichever works for you, _Doctor_."


	7. 6

**Six months later**

 _Crash._

"You _what_?"

"It could have been worse!"

"You almost got shot!"

"Well, that's part of the job, I –"

" _Spencer!"_

"Sorry," Spencer winced and bent down to pick up the shattered mug Anthea had dropped, careful to avoid the hot coffee that was in a puddle on her immaculate kitchen floor. He threw the shards into the bin, picking up a tea-towel from the counter and tossing it onto the floor to soak up the liquid. "Come here," he pulled her into his arms gently, helping her stand up and leading her towards the living-room. "I'm okay, I promise."

"You almost got shot," she repeated, but her voice was less shrill now. He had gotten back from a case late the night before, and Anthea had offered to cook him breakfast the next morning – Zeus was sick and she didn't want to leave him alone. However, an idle question about how his case had gone had resulted in her dropping the coffee she had been about to hand to him because the answer had made her hands shake.

" _Almost_ ," he reminded her. "Morgan pushed me out of the way."

"What if he hadn't gone with you?"

Spencer winced. "Thinking like that doesn't help, Anthea."

"How else am I supposed to think?" she sounded close to tears, her head buried under his chin and facing away from him. "What if something happened to you?"

"Nothing is going to happen to me."

"You can't promise that."

"Statistically, _you're_ more likely to get hurt when you go to work than I am," he said automatically, and then felt like slapping himself when he felt her tense in his arms. "Sorry, that was insensitive."

"No, it wasn't," she sighed. "You're being logical, I'm being irrational."

"You're just worried. You don't need to be."

"I'm your girlfriend, Spencer," Anthea turned to face him, her eyes sad. "I will always worry, even if I don't need to. I don't want to lose you."

"The chances of that –"

"Answer me with another statistic and I'll punch you in the face."

Wisely, he chose not to argue.

 **!**

Spencer frowned at the locked door, ringing the doorbell again and, when he received no answer for the fourth time, he knocked sharply. He heard a muffled bark from the other side, and immediately tensed. If Zeus was inside, it meant Anthea was either out of the house and she would be back soon, or she was inside and avoiding him. Or she could be sick and didn't want to answer the door, but then she should have checked her phone, considering the amount of times he had called her. He hadn't heard from her since last night, which in itself wasn't odd but he had a case to leave for this afternoon and that meant he needed to see her before he left.

However, it didn't look like he would be able to. Groaning, Spencer fished out a pad of paper and a sharpie from his messenger bag, quickly scribbling a note onto it and intending to stuff it through the mail-slot. When his fingers pushed through, however, something warm and wet touched them.

"Zeus?" Spencer narrowed his eyes and peered through the small opening of the door. Zeus' intelligent brown eyes stared back at him. "Where's Anthea?"

As if in response, Zeus let out a sharp bark and turned away from the door, in the direction of the bedroom. He returned with a book in his mouth, the slightly battered copy of _Just So Stories_ he had bought her only a few days ago. Zeus whined and nudged the book pointedly, then barked again.

Completely lost as to what the dog wanted him to do, Spencer stepped back from the door and ran a hand through his hair wearily. He didn't have time to consult on a case _and_ worry about the whereabouts of his girlfriend, but he didn't have a choice. Racking his brains, he finally remembered Anthea mentioning a neighbour called Elizabeth who sometimes fed Zeus and took him on walks when she was stuck working. Maybe she had an extra key she would let him borrow so he could at least check and see if she was just sick in bed. The only problem was, Anthea had about five neighbours, and that was only on her floor.

On the third door he knocked, he got lucky. A petite woman answered the door, probably not older than thirty, with clear blue eyes and blonde hair pulled up in a casual ponytail. She smiled politely when she saw Spencer, but her eyes were hesitant. As soon as he awkwardly introduced himself, however, her smile became genuine.

"You're Anthea's boyfriend, of course," she nodded immediately. "It's nice to finally meet you. She's mentioned you quite a bit."

"Er," how did you reply to that? Spencer decided to go with a polite smile and then quickly explained the problem, hoping that she wouldn't think his decision to enter his girlfriend's home uninvited at the behest of her dog was creepy. To her credit, Elizabeth didn't seem to find the fact that Zeus wanted to let Spencer in odd at all.

"He's one of the smartest dogs I've ever met," she shrugged and told him to wait, jogging back inside her apartment and reappearing moments later with a key tied with a bright yellow ribbon. "You can let yourself in and slip the key through the mail-slot when you're done. If she's sick or you need any help, just knock."

Spencer thanked her and made a beeline for Anthea's door quickly. As he fumbled with the key, he heard Zeus bark excitedly, and when the door was open he nearly fell over due to the dog's enthusiastic greeting.

"Calm down, boy," Spencer scratched him behind the ears and shut the door, dropping his bag and the key onto the hall table. The lights in the apartment were off, which was odd since it was nearing three in the afternoon, and Anthea's shoes were haphazardly thrown into a corner rather than neatly lined up against the wall. He frowned. "Anthea?" his call received no answer. He ventured inside and passed the kitchen, where there was a half-empty box of Chinese takeaway and a shattered plate on the floor. His heart skipped a beat.

At that moment, Zeus, who had unsuccessfully been trying to get Spencer's attention, finally latched onto his sleeve with his teeth and began tugging him towards the bedroom, whining all the while. Spencer allowed himself to be led to the closed door and shot the dog a look.

Zeus merely barked in response.

Spencer knocked on the door carefully, but there was no answer. He tried the handle and found it unlocked, so he opened it hesitantly. It was dark. "Anthea, are you in there?"

"Spencer?" her voice was low, hoarse. She sounded as if she was in pain.

Spencer pulled open the door and entered the room hurriedly. He didn't have time to take in what it even looked like – he spotted Anthea curled up in a corner on a sofa, hugging her knees. Her face was pale, her eyes were red, and her normally sleek hair was in a messy bun on top of her head. She looked ill, and she looked as if she had been crying.

"What's wrong?" he knelt in front of her and gently took one of her hands, noting with surprise that the nails on three of her right hand fingers were broken, with dried blood caking the tips. Her knuckles were bruised. "Did you get into a fight? Did someone hit you?" worse and worse scenarios flashed through his mind, and his eyes hardened. "Tell me who did this."

Anthea shook her head. "I did," she croaked. "I punched a wall a-and broke a glass – or maybe a p-plate."

Her voice was choked with tears. Unthinkingly, Spencer reached for her and she collapsed into his arms, sobs wracking her body as her injured hands clutched at him, her breathing laboured. Utterly lost as to what had made her lose her cool, Spencer shushed her as best he could and coaxed her up so he could lead her to the bed, which was still made. Had she not slept that night? She had been fine when he had left the night before, other than slightly upset about his near-death experience, but he was sure this had nothing to do with that.

When she was finally sitting on the bed, tears abated and her hands clutching at his arm, he tucked her loose hair behind her ears. "What's wrong?" he asked, trying to be as gentle as possible. It wasn't hard. The sight of her, with that heartbroken look in her eyes and the utterly defeated posture made his chest ache. What had happened in the twelve hours he had been away from her?

"R-R-Robbie," she choked out, her eyes filling with tears again. "H-He was in a-an acid-dent," she trailed off, the tears leaking out of her eyes even as she squeezed them shut. "My dad called me to tell me, late last night. He's not letting me come home."

She couldn't say more, but she didn't need to. Spencer allowed her to sob into his chest again, patting her hair and kissing her bruised hands. He knew there was nothing he could say or do now. She was family, she probably knew everything there was to know already. He wished he could have been there for her last night, held her as she cried or soothed her when she found out her hero, her saviour, was in trouble, but he had left early and she had been too distraught to call him, that was clear.

"Tell me what I can do," he murmured. Anthea merely held him tighter. He could feel her trembling in his arms, her grief still fresh, but the tears had stopped.

"Stay with me," she whispered.

"Always," he promised.

 **!**

It was four days before he left her apartment. He had only gone out twice, both times when she had taken the prescribed sleeping pills he didn't know she had and gone to sleep. Once, he had returned the key to Elizabeth and explained what was happening, upon which she had insisted on giving him enough food to tide over Anthea for the next two weeks. Next, he had stepped just outside the doorway to call Hotch and explain that he was going to Vegas to see his mother, that she was sick and he needed to be there in person. He had felt no remorse for lying, but he had specifically chosen Hotch to call, knowing JJ would have sympathy that would make him feel guilty immediately and that Morgan would see through him in a second. Hotch had been surprised, but understanding.

Now, however, he was finally in the office, having dropped Anthea to the airport so she could catch a plane to Chicago. Her father had expressly forbidden her to come earlier, saying that the media was going insane and the police were still trying to figure out if Robbie had been targeted because of his last name, or whether it had been an accident. The second she had been told there was no evidence to suggest the family was in any danger, she had insisted on leaving immediately.

Spencer had offered to go with her, practically insisted, but she had smiled and kissed him, her arms tight around his waist. "You are the best thing about this whole situation," she had whispered, her cheek pressed against his shirt. "Go back to work, Dr. Reid. I'll be okay."

He hadn't wanted to go back. Despite the two days of hell, he had quickly realized how much he liked being around Anthea. She had been crying for most of the time, and when she wasn't crying she was listless, her eyes alert but her movements slow and lethargic. She had barely eaten, and Zeus had taken up vigil by her bed, but she couldn't even bring herself to pet him. She couldn't sleep at all, but when Spencer held her in his arms and read to her, or when they lay together in the dark and talked in low voices, he would feel her erratic breathing slow, and she would finally succumb to exhaustion. Despite the circumstances, despite the fact that he would have done it if that was what she had needed no matter how uncomfortable it had made him, the fact that being around her and being close to her had been something he had done instinctively, without even a second thought, had made him happy.

Was this love? Spencer had felt love before, and he had to admit it was similar. It was different with Anthea, though. He loved her mind, just as he had loved Maeve's, but he loved what she represented as well. It was selfish, he knew that, but he loved how patient she was. Finally, here was a person who was willing to take on all his emotional baggage, who was unwilling to give up on him, and asked for absolutely nothing in return, because she _needed_ nothing from him. She hadn't even asked for his support when her brother had been injured. While they struggled to make their relationship seem normal, he knew _that_ wasn't normal. And maybe it didn't have to be. Maybe, just maybe, with a little bit of effort, he could be enough for her.

Because he was quickly realizing that she was enough for him.

His phone buzzed. _Missing you already, Dr. Reid._

He smiled. _I miss you too. Are you feeling okay?_

 _Yeah. Though I do think I was an idiot for saying you shouldn't come with me._

Spencer could feel his pulse quicken, both from worry and excitement. _What's wrong?_

 _Oh, calm down. I don't know how long I'll be gone for, that's all._

Spencer frowned. _How is that important? I'll still be here when you come back._

He could almost imagine her sighing as he read her reply. _I don't want you to forget me._

Her emotional state was projecting itself onto their conversation, he could tell. _I could never forget you, Anthea._

 _I know, Spencer._

She was upset. He typed back without thinking. _You are always new. The last of your kisses was ever the sweetest, the last smile the brightest, the last movement the gracefullest._

It did the trick. Her entire tone changed. _You just quoted John Keats at me!_

Spencer smiled. He knew how much she loved Keats. He was one of the few 'modern' poets she enjoyed. _Did that help?_

 _You get full marks in the romance department. I'm boarding now. Call me after work?_

 _I will. Travel safe._

 _I will. Miss me lots. Xxx_

You have no idea, Spencer said to himself silently as he put his phone down and got to work.


	8. 7

**Seven months later**

"I'm supposed to be doing that," commented Robbie dryly as he watched his sister aim and shoot at the target a hundred feet away with a practiced ease that unsettled many of the uniformed officers surrounding them. "You're scaring my friends."

"Shut up," retorted Anthea. Despite her slight build and the hands that were clearly meant for writing and marking essays, she held a gun with a certain amount of skill. She tossed the weapon to him, and he caught it easily. "I'm done, anyway."

"You really are," agreed Robbie. He put the gun down and motioned for his sister to follow him out of the large, rather noisy room, and she hovered behind his wheelchair for a second before backing off and allowing him to wheel himself out ahead of her. "You've been here a month, Thea. You need to go home."

"I am home," she replied automatically, but it was hesitant, awkward. She wasn't home, not really. Virginia was home, and it had been home ever since she had met the super-genius, gangly FBI agent. Whether she knew it or not was a different story.

"You miss work, you miss classes, and you miss Spencer," said Robbie, working hard to keep his tone gentle. It was hard, but he had a responsibility as her brother to make her see things she didn't want to see. Their parents were over the moon to have Anthea back home – she hadn't lived with them since she had started college, and they were unwilling to let her go, just like she was unwilling to leave the comfort of their home, so she never pushed. "Have you been talking to him?"

"Spencer?" Anthea frowned, as if the question surprised her, but Robbie knew it didn't. "Yeah, of course. We talk every day."

"Wouldn't you like to _see_ him every day?"

Anthea bit her lip. "I shouldn't –"

"Shut up," Robbie rolled his eyes and came to a halt in front of the car door. The uniformed officer leaning against the cruiser came forward without instruction and helped him hobble from the wheelchair to the backseat without a word, and Anthea climbed in beside him rather than in front. The armed police escort still hadn't let up, despite it having been a month since the 'attack'. It was one of the benefits and the disadvantages of having an ex-governor as a father.

"You think you'll be okay if I go back?" Anthea's voice was hesitant when, hours later, she was washing dishes and he was sitting at the table flicking through some paperwork from the station. The fact that she was still willing to discuss her leaving spoke volumes on its own, so Robbie decided not to tease her.

"You should go back, Thea. I'm okay."

Anthea grimaced. "But, Rachel –"

"Good riddance," was all he said, and maybe one day he'd actually mean it.

Anthea sighed and shut off the water, drying her hands on a tea-towel and dropping a kiss onto her brother's head. "I'll ask dad to get me a ticket for this weekend."

Robbie smiled. "That's my girl."

 **!**

"You sure you don't want to come out with us, Spence?" asked JJ for the fourth time, hovering in front of his desk worriedly. "You won't be a third wheel, I promise."

Spencer shook his head, smiling up at his friend. "I know I won't be, but I'm really tired."

"Is it the headaches?"

Spencer shrugged, unwilling to disclose the real reason for his inability to sleep. JJ sighed, but offered him a small smile and told him to call her in case he changed his mind, and then the office was empty.

It wasn't a real lie, not really. He _was_ tired, and he _did_ have work, but that wasn't what he planned on doing this evening. A quick glance at his watch showed he still had an hour, so he packed up his messenger bag, finished his last mug of coffee in record speed and made a beeline for the parking-lot.

The drive home was uneventful, but Spencer had to work hard to concentrate. He didn't know why he was so jittery, he only knew that he really wanted to get home and eat something before she called. Despite hearing her voice every day and the odd Skype call when he had time, he hadn't realized it was possible to miss someone as much as he missed Anthea until she had left. What had started as a weekend trip had turned into a week, then two, and now it had been a month. He would be lying if he said he wasn't impatient to see her, but he understood her desire to stay with her family until she felt it was no longer necessary.

It was getting harder and harder not to tell her, though. She had barely been gone a week when he had realized it was entirely possible he was in love with her, but when she had said she would be gone for two weeks, almost crying when she told him Robbie was confined to a wheelchair for the foreseeable future and his movements were minimum, it had almost been impossible not to blurt it out then. But, it wasn't how normal couples did it, he knew that. Normal couples waited to say it in person, with a grand romantic gesture and happy tears, not when the girl's family life was a mess.

He had debated going to see her in Chicago, but his case-load had been crazy ever since she had gone, and in a way he was grateful it was, because it meant he spent less time sitting and thinking about her. Every free minute was spent either speaking to her or going to see Elizabeth, who he now knew had four dogs of her own and was keeping Zeus until Anthea returned. The dog, who initially had had a very strong dislike for Spencer, now seemed to look forward to his visits. If he ever managed to catch Anthea on Skype and Zeus at the same time, however, he would admit to himself, grudgingly, that there was no need to worry: she _would_ come back, if not for him, then at least for her dog.

The trek up the endless flight of stairs to his apartment was taking extra-long today, and it was grating on his nerves. When he finally got to the top, he dropped his bag onto the floor and dug his palms into his eyes, willing his headache to go away so he could talk to his girlfriend and for once just be nor-

"Spencer?"

He jumped a foot in the air at the voice he hadn't heard in person in _weeks,_ and whipped his head around to its source. Anthea was standing in front of his door, the suitcase she had taken lying at her foot with her handbag on top of it and a book in her hand – clearly, she had been leaning against his door and reading when he had come up. As soon as they locked eyes, however, the book fell from her hand and she closed the distance between them quickly, almost running in her haste. Spencer caught her in his arms reflexively and crushed her to his chest, breathing in her familiar scent and burying his face into her hair. His headache was gone, he no longer felt exhausted and, if possible, he didn't feel hungry either. Anthea was home; everything else seemed insignificant, in comparison.

"Nice catch," it seemed an age before she spoke, but her voice was amused, if not a little choked. Spencer let out a breathless laugh and tried to pull back, but Anthea's arms tightened around his neck. Her shoulders were shaking.

"Hey," he managed to pry her hands loose and cradled them gently in his own – there were still bandages on her fingers, from when she had broken the plate when she had found out about Robbie. Reluctantly, she met his eyes, giving him a watery smile. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "It's okay," he murmured, because he didn't know what else to say.

"It is now," she agreed.

 **!**

"What convinced you to come back so soon?" Spencer fought to keep his tone casual, but immediately he could tell Anthea had seen right through him. They were curled up together on his sofa, a book open on his lap that had been abandoned hours ago in favour of conversation. The first thing she had demanded once they were inside being that he read to her, because she was tired and she didn't want to think. Not understanding her strange declaration but sensing that it was best to do as he was told, Spencer had complied willingly for a few chapters of a random book off his shelf, but she hadn't been listening, not really. Some coaxing had led to her confessing that she didn't really care what he read – she just wanted to hear his voice.

"I would like it better if we talked," Spencer had said in response, and Anthea had smiled slightly before agreeing. While she had updated him on her family life and the few things they hadn't talked about on the phone, he had summarized the last case he had been on, opting to leave out the depressing details. Wisely, Anthea had not asked for more information.

"Nothing had to convince me," replied Anthea, playing with his fingers absently. "Robbie's sad about Rachel, but he likes going to the shooting range, and they've still got an officer escorting everyone around. I was a glorified nurse, really. He wouldn't even wake me up in the middle of the night if he needed a glass of water."

Spencer hummed in response, completely unconvinced but understanding that there was something on her mind and she wanted time to think on it. Instead, he kissed the top of her head. "I'm glad you're back."

"When I told you to miss me, I didn't mean for it to be quite so bad," there was a smile in her voice as she spoke, even though he couldn't see her face he knew it was there. It made him smile as well. "I missed you too, by the way. I didn't say it enough, did I?"

"It doesn't matter, I know you did," Spencer shrugged. However, he knew his confidence was an act – he _hadn't_ been sure that she missed him, since she had barely managed to call him for an hour each evening, and on the days he had told her he had cases she hadn't spoken to him even once. It had irked him, but he had reasoned himself out of his annoyance: he had just discovered that he was quite possibly in love with her, the fact that he was being overly emotional was just a side-effect.

"I'm sorry, Spencer," Anthea sighed. "You put up with so much while I was gone."

"I wanted to help."

"You _did_ help," she turned around to face him, resting her chin on his shoulder and looking up at him, her large, dark eyes reflecting the light of the lamp next to him. "God, Spencer, I can't even imagine what it was like for you, going from case to case and checking up on my dog and my apartment _and_ me all at once. I could barely juggle just you and my family."

"You went through something terrible, you didn't have to juggle anything," he insisted. "I would have understood even if you didn't have time for me, Anthea, you know that."

"You shouldn't have to," her lower lip quivered, and Spencer was practised enough by now to know it was a dangerous sign – she was close to crying. "You have to see horrible things every day and catch awful people, and I couldn't even give you a break from it, I just kept dumping all my problems on you and I stayed away for a _month_ , I –"

"Stop," he interrupted her firmly, knowing exactly where this was going. He sat up and pulled her close, rubbing her back as she clung to his shirt desperately. Fortunately, she hadn't started crying, so he took advantage of her silence. "You are so understanding of everything I do, Anthea," he began quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. "You know what to say and do when I've had a bad case, you don't question the fact that I barely tell you anything about work, even just seeing you at the end of the day makes everything better. You do so much for me just by being there, of course I want to do the same thing for you. The only thing I hated about this past month was how upset you were."

He heard her sniffle. "Not fair," she muttered.

"What isn't fair?"

"You're better at romance than I am, and I teach it."

Her weak joke made him chuckle, and her shoulders shook with laughter along with him. "I learn from the best," he kissed the top of her head and reached around her for his mug of coffee. "How's your Italian going?"

Anthea shifted so she could look up at him, but stayed close. She wrinkled her nose in annoyance. "Not very good."

"You haven't been practicing?"

"I was trying," she sighed. "Its easier when you teach me instead of a book."

"You mean it's easier when I read to you instead of you having to read the book yourself," said Spencer, his lips twitching.

Anthea smiled shyly. "What girl wouldn't like having Petrarchan poetry read to her in the language it was written in?"

"Someone who would not understand the significance."

Anthea rolled her eyes. "Rhetorical question."

"Right," Spencer ran a hand through his hair awkwardly. "Sorry."

"I'll forgive you if you read me another sonnet."

"Just one?" he raised an eyebrow.

Anthea bit her lip and gazed up at him from under her eyelashes. An unfamiliar feeling made Spencer's stomach knot. She let out a small, breathy sigh, keeping her gaze fixed on him. "Maybe a few more?"

Dumbly, Spencer nodded. Anthea's expression immediately morphed back into her usual smiling one, and she climbed off the sofa to grab the book from her bedroom. Spencer exchanged a look with Zeus when she left, and the dog's look of amusement said everything that he could not vocalize – his girlfriend has just seduced him and neither of them had even realized it.


	9. 8

**Eight months later**

"Your Agent Rossi called my uncle yesterday."

Spencer froze, his cup of coffee halfway to his lips. Anthea pretended not to notice, he could tell, but she had clearly felt the hand that was slipped through hers stiffen. Still, she didn't comment and allowed him to collect his thoughts quietly, her eyes fixed on the painting in front of them. An artist recognized for making Renaissance-style paintings was doing an exhibition at Georgetown, and Spencer had allowed Anthea to drag him down there so she could exclaim over some of the pieces. They had perused relatively silently until now, and suddenly he found himself wishing for quiet again.

"He did?" though he tried – and failed – to sound casual, he was at least glad his voice didn't shake.

Anthea shot him an unreadable look. "He did," she confirmed. "Uncle Mike was wondering if I would go see him and drop off an old photo-album of his, he sent me loads of old pictures in the post a few months ago from his military days so I could get them edited and framed for him. Apparently, Agent Rossi is in quite a few of them."

Spencer nodded dumbly, his mind already working in overdrive. He wasn't ready for her to meet the team, not yet – he hadn't even told her he was in love with her yet! The doubts were all gone by now, but the _way_ to tell her mattered to him more than he had realized. While he didn't think it could be perfect, it had to at least be memorable. But if she met the team, especially someone as perceptive as Rossi, he didn't know what he'd do. As much as he loved his friends, he wanted to keep Anthea to himself, if not forever then certainly for as long as possible.

"Spencer?" Anthea's voice drew him out of his thoughts. He blinked and focused on her face. She looked concerned. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Sorry," he winced. "What was that?"

"I asked if you think it's a good idea for me to drop off the album when he's not home. That way I don't have to see him."

Spencer stopped walking, bringing Anthea to a stop alongside him. He examined her face, even though she deliberately looked away from him and focused her eyes onto another painting. Did she mean it? Would she be okay with doing something like that? He knew she went out of her way for her family, it definitely had something to do with her adoption but more importantly she was just that kind of person – it made sense for her to want to meet Rossi in person, maybe chat with him about her uncle. Spencer knew he would come up; Rossi was perceptive and smart, and even if he didn't bring up Spencer somehow or the other, he knew it was time for him to come clean to his friends. But _now_?

"I don't know," he said finally, lamely, unable to come up with another excuse.

Anthea didn't react. She didn't even look at him. "Elizabeth is making a stop to that part of town, I'm sure she won't mind dropping it off for me," was all she said.

They didn't speak of it again after that.

 **!**

 _Case in Florida. Sorry I can't make it to dinner. I'll call you tonight._

The deeply impersonal text even made Spencer cringe as he read through it, but he forced himself to send it anyway. Anthea hadn't spoken to him properly since their talk at the exhibition, and that had been five days ago. She had sent the album with Elizabeth, like she had said she would, and he had seen Rossi and Hotch looking over it in the latter's office the next day. He hadn't had a chance to see her since, though; they were flying out for a case now, and Anthea had merely texted him a few times to say she had classes and a report due, so she would be busy for a while. The few times he had tried to call her, she hadn't picked up, merely sending him a short " _at the library, can't pick_ up" every time, even though he was sure she had probably just been asleep at least during one of his calls. Spencer knew she was hurt, but he had absolutely no idea how to make it better.

"You alright, kid?" asked Morgan, falling into the seat next to him and taking out his phone – no doubt to text Savannah.

Reid shrugged. "I'm fine."

"You're lying," Morgan didn't even have to look at him to put across his disapproval. He finally turned off his phone and raised his eyebrows at Spencer. "You wanna talk about it now or later?"

"Later," acquiesced Spencer. He was loath to talk about it, but maybe Morgan _could_ help him.

Just before he switched off his phone, the text he received convinced him even more that he needed the older man's help.

 _At the library until morning, won't be able to talk. Stay safe._

 **!**

"You got a girl?" the glee was barely concealed in Morgan's voice.

Spencer rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway as he sipped his coffee. "Yeah, I did."

"Let me see," demanded Morgan, and Spencer reluctantly took out his phone, flipping through the few images he had in his gallery until he found one of Anthea that he had taken while they were at the park. She was smiling happily and clutching a book to her chest – they had been reading under a tree when the rain had interrupted them.

"She's cute," said Morgan, his lips twitching into a smile as he flipped to the next picture, one of Anthea and Spencer himself as he read to her. She had snapped it from above, her head resting against his chest comfortably, and the half-confused smile on Spencer's face always made her laugh when she looked at it again. She had made it her phone's wallpaper only a week ago.

"She's amazing," said Spencer, unable to disguise the regret in his voice.

Morgan nudged his shoulder gently. "Hey, don't be like that. So, you screwed up. If she's put up with so much from you till now, she was bound to get upset eventually. You just need to make it up to her."

"How?" Spencer ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know how to do grand, romantic gestures, and I know for a fact that she doesn't like them. She likes it when I read to her, or when I offer to carry her books home. We eat takeout on the floor half the time we're together, or we roam around the city."

"She sounds like a classy lady," said Morgan, the same half-smile threatening to overcome his face. "You're in love, aren't you?"

"I – I –" Spencer blushed, beginning to stammer, but something about Morgan's face made him pause. Sighing, he nodded.

The smile that had been hinted at finally spread across his friend's face, and he punched him in the arm – harder than usual. "That's my boy!"

"That doesn't explain how I can fix this," grunted Spencer, rubbing his arm but smiling at his friend's excitement nonetheless.

Morgan's eyes glinted as he rubbed his hands together. "Oh, I think I can help with that."

 **!**

Anthea heard the incessant buzzing of her phone and silenced it with one hand, already knowing who was calling. She bit her lip and gave an apologetic smile to the man opposite her sharing her table; he smiled back. Ducking her head back to her book, she read through a few pages hurriedly, intent on finishing the chapter before she had to pack up and go home for the night. However, her phone buzzed twice more before she was done, indicating she had a text message. Sighing when she realized she clearly would not be able to finish her book that night, she marked her place and stuffed it into her bag, having already checked it out for fear of this very thing happening.

She didn't check her phone until she was walking across campus to the bus-stop. Other than the five missed calls from Spencer, there was one from her brother and a voice-mail, plus two text messages. Deciding that they could all wait until later, she nevertheless opened the first text.

 _I'm home. Can I see you tonight?_

Anthea sighed and scrolled down to the second one.

 _I missed you_.

"Didn't feel like it," she muttered to herself, but nevertheless she typed out a reply.

 _I'm getting the bus home now._

Knowing he would probably be waiting for her by the time she reached, Anthea tossed her phone back into her bag and boarded the bus absently, her mind too preoccupied to pay attention to her surroundings. She knew she cared about Spencer, and she had missed him more than she thought she would while he had been away, specially considered the way they had left things. Still, she was hurt. It was stupid, really, because she _knew_ what he was like. Other than the obvious fear of commitment, it was clear he had never done this before. He had told her he would be bad at a normal relationship, but of course Anthea had insisted she didn't care, insisted she could handle it. And she could, she knew that, because he was worth it. The way he made her feel safe and yet not vulnerable, the way he read to her because she loved it even though it made him awkward, even the way he made it a point to bestow upon her every possible physical affection he could despite the fact that it was against his nature, he tried so very hard with her.

But Anthea tried as well. And the fact that he couldn't give her the one thing they both knew she wanted but never asked for had hurt her more than she had thought it would. She didn't want to invade his work life; she didn't even want to be best friends with his friends despite the fact that in any other circumstance that was _exactly_ what she would have done. But she wanted them to know about her – she craved the validation she had thought she didn't need, but it had taken root now and there was no going back.

The bush lurched to a stop and pulled her out of her thoughts. Sighing, she gathered her things and climbed out, making a beeline for her apartment building across the road. She needed to snap out of it, she knew that. Rarely did Spencer come home from a case in a chatty mood, and her surliness would not help. They would talk about it, of course, but not yet. For one more day, she could try to be the perfect girlfriend.

Anthea was so intent on mentally preparing herself to act the part she knew she had to play that she almost didn't notice the shadowy figure slouched outside her building, instead of waiting for her inside as he usually did. Spencer grasped her elbow gently, however, before she walked completely past him, and Anthea blinked.

"Why aren't you inside?" she asked, forgoing the rehearsed greeting she had been practising. Her eyes narrowed. Spencer looked good – he always did, she thought to herself bitterly – but today he looked _extra_ good. He wasn't carrying his go-bag, which made her wonder if he had actually just come back from a case or gone somewhere else first. He was dressed better than usual too – her favourite purple scarf was wrapped around his neck, and his hair was relatively tame.

"I was waiting for you," his hand went down from her elbow to her wrist. Anthea didn't resist, but she did raise her eyebrows. Spencer ignored her expression, at least for the moment, and pulled her closer to himself cautiously. Automatically, her arms wound around his neck. He smiled. "I missed you."

"You said that already," said Anthea, her words blunter than she had intended. Internally, she winced. Almost apologetically, she brushed his loose hair off his forehead and offered him a small smile back. She couldn't remember a time when Spencer had voluntarily been affectionate with her in public. Sure, they held hands when they took walks or went out on dates, and he often pressed quick, chaste kisses to her forehead and lips when one of them had to rush out on the other for work, but this decidedly romantic, _normal_ affection was new for her.

"I probably should say it more often," he confessed, resting his forehead against hers in a move that almost made her mouth fall open. "And I'm sorry for the way I acted."

Anthea bit her lip. "I may have overreacted a little," she offered.

"No, you don't have to defend me this time, Thea," the nickname fell so casually from his lips that Anthea felt the heat rise to her cheeks, both from happiness and from a curious flush of pleasure she had rarely experienced in her life. "I know what you wanted me to say, and believe me I wanted to say it too. You are an amazing person," his free hand touched her face, stroking her cheek almost wonderingly. "I want the other people in my life to know that."

"It didn't feel like it, Spencer."

"Because I was afraid," he looked down, every atom of his body screaming with shame. "I told you, I haven't done this before. I _want_ to tell people about you, but when it comes to it I just freeze, and I don't know why."

"You don't freeze when you have to tell me things," said Anthea gently. She nudged his face up with the tips of her fingers. "Why didn't you just talk to me about it?"

"You shouldn't have to deal with all these things," Spencer shook his head adamantly. "My problems are not yours."

Anthea sighed. "That's not how these things work, Spencer. You took care of me for days after Robbie's accident, you looked after Zeus while I was gone, and you did it all because you're a good guy and a good boyfriend, but you also did it because I _let_ you. How would you have felt if I had cut you off because I didn't know what to think or how to handle the situation?" Understanding shone in his eyes at her analogy, and Anthea exhaled in relief. "If you had told me all this weeks ago we wouldn't even have to have this conversation."

"I know. I'm sorry," the frustration in his voice made her heart ache. "I'll fix it, I promise."

Anthea didn't have to lie and pretend that there was nothing to fix, she knew he would see through it immediately. She sighed. "How?"

Spencer's cheeks turned pink. "I, uh," he stammered out something she didn't understand.

Deciding they could talk inside, Anthea shushed him soothingly, giving him time to collect himself as they rode the elevator up to her apartment. Spencer didn't speak much, but he didn't have to. He kept an arm around her securely, and while in the elevator he pressed his lips to her temple and kept them there until they had to move, his breathing slow and relaxed.

It wasn't until they were seated in her living-room with Zeus at his feet – a change she noticed but was not displeased about – that he spoke again. "I want you to meet the team," said Spencer quietly. "I understand that it may seem like I'm doing this because you got upset when I acted that way about meeting Rossi, but it's not like that."

Anthea shook her head. "I wouldn't think like that, Spencer. I trust you."

He smiled at her admission, reaching out for a hand that she gave him willingly. He kissed her knuckles, causing her heart to constrict in her chest. "I just wanted to be sure."

"We don't have to do this so soon," said Anthea reassuringly. "I know I acted like it was a big deal, and for me it was, but I know its not like that for you."

"No, its okay, I want to do this," Spencer shook his head. "Morgan's baby's christening is next month. I already texted Savanna and said I'm bringing you."

Anthea could feel a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You told Morgan?"

Spencer grinned sheepishly. "It was his idea."

Anthea laughed and leaned forward. Spencer automatically took her into his arms, letting out a quiet sigh of relief when she kissed his cheek and settled her head comfortably against his chest. "Thank you," she murmured quietly. "I know it wasn't easy for you."

"He told me to shut up after about twenty minutes. He said I couldn't stop talking about you once I started."

Anthea laughed again. They were silent for a while, simply enjoying being together in comfort after so many weeks of awkwardness. Finally, Spencer broke the silence again. "Thea?"

"Hmm?" Anthea leaned back, catching his eye and raising an eyebrow questioningly. She was still smiling.

Spencer gulped uncomfortably. So far, Morgan's plan had gone off without a hitch. This was the last part, the icing on the cake. He needed to do this, but _God_ he didn't want to lose her. "Can I say something?"

"You already did," she teased. When Spencer barely cracked a smile, hers faltered. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, it is," he assured her quickly. "I just, uh," her look of concern prompted him to take a deep breath. "I have to say something."

Anthea blinked. "Okay?"

"And I need you to promise you won't freak out."

She cocked her head to the side questioningly. "Is it something worth freaking out about?"

"I freaked out when I said it out loud to myself the first time," admitted Spencer.

Anthea's eyes widened fractionally, but she didn't pull away. In fact, Spencer was sure he saw a flicker of understanding in her eyes before they became guarded again. Had she figured out what he was going to say? It was impossible to tell, and he didn't want to think about it, not yet. "Go ahead," she encouraged.

He took a deep breath. "I'm in love with you."

Anthea's reaction was the exact opposite of what he expected. Instead of exclaiming with surprise, or joy, or even looking shocked, she smiled softly, her eyes glistening with a suspicious moisture. Spencer opened his mouth to speak, to elaborate, but Anthea merely held up a finger against his lips, her smile never wavering. She removed her hand and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his frozen lips before settling back into his arms, her head resting against his heart. Spencer was sure she could hear it thudding uncommonly fast against his ribs.

If she could, she didn't comment on it. Instead, she let out a quiet sigh of contentment. "I know you are," she murmured quietly. "I love you too, Dr. Reid."

Two hours later, when they were still a tangled mess of limbs on her sofa with her dog dozing by their feet, Spencer realized that her reaction hadn't been what he expected, but it had been exactly what he needed.


	10. 9

**Nine months later**

Anthea slipped the key into the lock hurriedly, juggling her messenger bag, two bags of groceries and a pile of books as she slipped inside the softly lit apartment. She shut the door, dropped her keys into the ceramic bowl lying on a table nearby, and kicked off her shoes. She padded softly to the small living room, turning on the matching set of lamps on either side of a large, comfortable sofa. She carefully placed her messenger bag, books and plastic grocery bags on the dining table and finally turned around to glance at the other occupant in the apartment.

When Spencer had texted her an hour ago to say he had just landed and was on his way home, Anthea had just finished a class and was on her way back to her apartment, closer to Georgetown than Quantico. However, the simple text had caused her to take a detour and head straight for the familiar apartment building an hour away. She had expected to find him asleep when she came back, but she was more than a little surprised that he hadn't even stirred despite all the noise she had made.

It was barely six in the evening, so Anthea decided to let him rest. She turned off the lamp closest to his head and took the grocery bags to the small kitchenette. It had become routine – when Spencer was in the city, she would show up with bags of food and make sure he ate, slept, and functioned like a normal human being. She had even slept over, twice. Granted, it had not been planned either time but it was a massive improvement, and Anthea knew it had a lot to do with his confession last month. This was Spencer's way of letting her in, and showing her how comfortable he was with her.

And she was more than happy to accept whatever he gave.

Quietly, she emptied the bags and placed the items in their respective cupboards. She kept the milk out and made herself a cup of tea, carrying it to the dining table and cracking open a book to while away the time.

Three hours later, she heard the sofa creak and a few minutes passed before she felt a gentle hand touch her shoulder. "Sorry," his voice was groggy with sleep. "When did you get here?"

"Ages ago," Anthea closed her book and stood up, resting her head against his shoulder when Spencer wrapped his arms around her waist. Her hands, much smaller than his own, curled around his soft sweater-vest. "You okay?"

"I'm okay," he murmured into her hair. "You'd know if I wasn't."

"You wouldn't tell me," she tilted her face up and studied his exhausted features. "One week, Spencer?"

He frowned. "What?"

"You said two days. It's been a week."

"Oh," understanding lit up his face, and then his eyes darkened. "Serial killer," was all he said. Anthea bit her lip, but nodded. She sat down in her chair once more, but didn't open her book. Spencer went to the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a cup of coffee and a pot of sugar. "How have you been?" he asked, adding a heaped teaspoon to his drink. Anthea stopped him before he could repeat the action, raising her eyebrows pointedly. He smiled a little, but obeyed her unspoken command.

"I've been fine. Grading papers, mostly," she shrugged and traced the rim of her empty mug absently. Her free hand tapped the wooden table-top. She didn't even realize she had been doing it until Spencer's hand closed over it, halting her movements.

"Mid-terms are in a week, right?" he asked. His thumb rubbed soothing circles into the back of her hand.

Anthea nodded. "I don't expect them to take it seriously, though. They're all freshmen."

"Yeah, if only all freshmen were like us," Spencer chuckled. Anthea laughed as well, but her smile didn't reach her eyes. Spencer sighed, putting his half-finished mug down and coming to kneel near her chair. Anthea looked away, but he grasped her chin and made her look at him. "You don't need to worry," he spoke quietly. "You're the better shot, but I'm faster at dodging."

Anthea cracked a smile at that. She tugged her face out of his grip and kissed his cheek. "I know," she murmured. She stood up and headed for the kitchen, discreetly wiping her eyes. "I don't know why I'm being so weepy," she continued, her usual light returning to her eyes as she pulled out a pack of pasta from the cupboard. "It's not like me, you know that."

"Yes, but in new relationships the fear of loss is quite strong, and in my line of work –"

"I don't need your brain right now, Dr. Reid. It was a rhetorical statement."

"Sorry," he didn't sound sorry. Spencer rested his elbows on the kitchen island thoughtfully. "Did you miss me?"

Anthea frowned, turning to face him in confusion. "Of course I did," she raised an eyebrow when he didn't look convinced. "Spencer, I didn't call you constantly because –"

"I know why," he interrupted hastily, his eyes flicking down to his folded hands. Anthea bit her lip, but decided not to push him. She returned to the food, and Spencer let her work in silence for half an hour. When she had put the lasagne into the oven, he finally spoke again. "I changed my emergency contact information."

Anthea's heart skipped a beat, but she tried not to let her voice waver when she spoke. "Oh," she replied simply. She fiddled with the thermostat on the oven.

"You haven't met the team, and the christening is still a few weeks away. We could go on cases before then, and I want them to know to call you if something happens," Spencer ran a hand through his hair sheepishly when Anthea finally turned around.

"I'm sure Garcia could track me down if she wanted," smiled Anthea. She sat down next to him and rested her head against his shoulder. "Thank you, though. I won't be looking forward to that call, but I'll worry less now."

"Yeah," said Spencer quietly. He rested his own head on top of hers and picked up her hand, tracing the lines on her palm idly. "Thea?"

"Hmm?"

"I missed you too."

Anthea smiled and tilted her head to the side to catch his lips in a soft kiss. "I know you did."


	11. 10

"We're late," came a soft voice from the living room. Spencer stop attempting to fix his tie and comb his hair at the same time and smiled slightly when a smaller pair of hands took over for him. "I told you not to read all night."

"I didn't oversleep," he retorted, but only half-heartedly. He hadn't had his morning coffee, and he could feel his eyelids drooping.

Anthea smiled at him and finished knotting his tie, patting his chest when she was done. "Give up on your hair, Spencer. Let's go, I brought coffee."

Spencer's eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas morning, and Anthea giggled at his expression. She led the way out of the small apartment, pausing to pick up the thermos lying on the coffee table, along with her purse. She turned back to Spencer and held up the thermos, one eyebrow raised. Spencer resisted the urge to smile giddily and merely nodded, following her out and locking the door behind them.

"Are you driving or shall I?" her voice was smooth and calm as it always was, but her index finger was tapping against her skirt-clad thigh, a tell-tale sign that she was nervous. Spencer decided to ignore it, however, and nodded to say that she should drive. It was only when they were seated in the car and he had had a few gulps of the over-sweetened and lukewarm liquid – just the way he liked it – that he finally spoke.

"You're nervous," he said quietly.

Anthea bit down on her bottom lip, but kept her eyes on the road. "On a scale of one to ten?"

"Yes, please."

"Seven," she whispered.

Spencer shook his head. He noted the way both her hands were clamped on the wheel and rested his hand on one of hers, prying her fingers off the wheel and squeezing them. "You don't have to be nervous, Thea."

"I'm meeting them for the first time, of course I'm nervous."

"There's nothing to be nervous about. They're all going to love you."

Anthea rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Love, you say?"

Spencer smiled at her light tone and kissed her knuckles briefly before returning her hand to the wheel. "Yes, like I love you."

Her smile was wider now. "I love you too, Dr. Reid."

 **!**

"Reid's bringing a date?" Will raised his eyebrows as he sipped on his champagne. Next to him, JJ rolled her eyes as Penelope looked excited.

"He's allowed to have a social life," defended JJ. "He asked for a plus one when Savana was counting the guests."

"Yeah, but its _Reid_ ," stressed Penelope. "He hasn't properly dated since Maeve."

"It's been a long time, Penelope," said JJ quietly. "He _should_ be moving on."

"Do we know who he's bringing?" asked Will.

JJ shook her head, but Penelope looked down at her turquoise green heels and blinked rapidly. Will chuckled and JJ raised an eyebrow. "Garcia?"

"I didn't stalk him!" insisted the other woman immediately. At her friend's sigh, however, she looked guilty. "I may have just… hacked into his building's security cameras?"

JJ slapped a hand to her forehead in frustration just as Hotch joined them, his hand clasped on Jack's shoulder. "Everything alright?"

"Penelope stalked Reid's date," informed Will, ignoring the two women's looks.

Hotch looked like he wanted to laugh. "And?" he prompted, accepting a glass of champagne from Penelope.

Penelope looked at JJ pleadingly, who rolled her eyes, but nodded. Penelope grinned. "Her name's Anthea Grayson, _Doctor_ Anthea Grayson might I add. She's twenty-nine, never been married, had two serious relationships, and she lives in and teaches English Literature at Georgetown. She started her second PhD in Critical Theory ten months ago, and apparently _that's_ where she met our beloved Reid."

"How is that?" asked JJ despite herself.

"She was a scouting colleges at Georgetown and Reid was there with a recruitment team. That's the only connection I found between them," Penelope shrugged. "She started showing up on his security camera feeds around four months after they met, and then –"

"I think that's enough digging for now, Garcia," interrupted Hotch. He still looked like he wanted to laugh. "So Reid's bringing his girlfriend here, then?"

"He must want to introduce her to everyone," nodded JJ. "And it must be serious if he wants to do it."

"I'm glad he does," said Will. "And I'm glad he picked today too. Morgan's going to be too busy to give him a hard time about it, and the rest of us _have_ to be on our best behaviour."


	12. 10 - 1

Anthea smoothed her hair for the fifth time since she'd gotten out of the car, waiting patiently while Spencer unloaded the trunk of the car of presents she had picked out, with his minimal help. She did a final once-over of her outfit and wondered, once again, if she should have worn something nicer. The forest green dress reached just above her knees, and her off-white heels matched her small purse and the pearls she wore in her ears and in a single circlet around her neck. She tried not to look too frazzled as Spencer finally straightened up. Once the two boxes were securely tucked under his arm, he offered Anthea his free hand, which she accepted gratefully.

He glanced at her as they began walking. "Nervous?" he asked again.

Anthea let out a shaky breath. "Five," she answered, and squeezed his hand. "Thank you for bringing me. You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," said Spencer simply. They began making their way up the path, and Anthea was glad to see there were more people than she had anticipated. Despite her slight discomfort with crowds, she knew distractions would be necessary in case it all went to hell.

Which it wouldn't, she reasoned with herself as Spencer waved at someone seated under the tent and knocked on the door. She was a successful professor at a prestigious university, and a young one at that. True, Spencer was kind and brave and incredible, but she didn't have to prove anything to anyone. However, when he gave her a look to say he would drop the boxes inside and be right back, Anthea bit her lip as the irrational fear bubbled up inside her, but gave a small nod anyway. The door was opened by an unfamiliar person, even to Anthea, and Spencer merely ducked inside. The woman gave her a cursory glance and a polite smile, but didn't stay long. Anthea had just turned around to do a mental head-count of the people milling about when she heard a slightly familiar voice speak.

"Reid, that you?"

Anthea froze, and it was only the warm hand that rested against the lower back which prevented her knees from shaking. She fought to keep her face pleasant, but aloof, as a tall man in a suit approached them. She recognized him immediately.

"Hey," answered Spencer. He stepped out from behind Anthea, moving his hand from her back to her wrist, and tugged her forward gently. His movement made Anthea blink, and she smiled at David Rossi as she descended the stairs and accepted his offered hand. "Rossi, you remember Anthea Grayson."

"That I do," said Rossi, his eyes crinkling kindly. "So you're the plus one we've heard nothing about?"

Anthea managed a slightly more genuine smile at his words, sensing the teasing behind them. "I guess so," she said, her voice surprisingly smooth. "It's nice to see you again, Agent Rossi."

"Call me Dave, please," said Rossi, waving a hand. "I should have known it was you. No wonder Spencer wanted to go back to the fair the day after we left. Have you met the others yet?"

Anthea laughed and shook her head, and Rossi gestured for her to accompany him. She threw a quick look at Spencer, and his hand tightened around hers as he began to follow the older man. She breathed a small sigh of relief, ignoring the quiet chuckle that came from Spencer at her actions.

"So, Miss Grayson, what are you up to these days?" asked Rossi as he navigated the tastefully decorated tent towards a group of men and women who were watching them approach curiously.

"Anthea, please," she answered quickly. "I, uh, teach at Georgetown. Literature, Renaissance mostly."

"Fascinating," said Rossi, sounding genuinely interested. "So, you're Professor Grayson, then?"

Anthea nodded, but Spencer interrupted. "Dr. Grayson, but she'll never tell you that unless you ask her. She just submitted her proposal for her second doctorate last week."

"Second?" Rossi looked impressed. "Trying to give Reid a run for his money?"

Anthea laughed, surprising even herself. She noted Spencer's pleased smile. "I don't think I'm nearly as smart as Spencer, but it _is_ nice to know I can keep him on his toes," she leaned against his shoulder affectionately, her eyes teasing. She moved away almost immediately, of course, but she saw Rossi's eyes twinkle at her gesture.

"Look who I found!" he announced as they reached the group. Three women and two men, noted Anthea, and… children? She blinked at the two blonde boys who each held a different man's hand, and the small toddler that was on the blonde woman's hip. Spencer's hand tightened around hers reassuringly: she had _not_ been expecting so many people.

"Hi," she managed to say faintly. The answering smiles she received, however, were almost blinding. She could have sworn the blonde woman with glasses who wasn't holding a baby would have hugged her if she hadn't looked like she restrained herself at the last minute.

"It's nice to finally meet you," said the other woman kindly. She adjusted her grip on the child and reached out her free hand, smiling gently. "I'm JJ, please call me Jennifer. And this is my son, Michael."

"Nice to meet you too," said Anthea. She looked at the toddler and couldn't help the smile that took over her face. "He's adorable."

"Thank you," Jennifer beamed.

"I'm Penelope!" said the other woman, who clearly looked like she had been making a huge effort to stay quiet. "Are you Reid's girlfriend?"

Anthea couldn't help but exchange a bemused look with Spencer, who had turned slightly pink at the question. However, he answered for her. "Yes, she is, Garcia."

"How long have you been dating?" she demanded.

Anthea looked at Spencer again expectantly, but this time she was smiling. Spencer grimaced. "Five months?"

"Six," corrected Anthea. Spencer raised an eyebrow at her, and she cocked her head to one side, forcing him to remember the first month when he had refused to commit but she had made it plain they were together anyway.

Four seconds later, he sighed. "Six," he conceded.

Garcia squealed, and finally Anthea was tackled in a hug she probably should have expected sooner. She held her ground, despite the force of the attack, however, and managed to let out a short laugh at the gesture. She squeezed back. "It's very nice to finally meet you, Penelope."

"Darn right, it is! The good doctor has kept you a secret for _far_ too long," Garcia let her go and threw Spencer a dirty look. "We will be having words, Reid."

Anthea giggled and turned to the rest of the people. She shook hands with Tara Lewis and Will, JJ's husband, before turning to their son, Henry, who gave her a shy smile. She planted a kiss on his cheek and shook his outstretched hand, doing the same to the other little boy who introduced himself as Jack. His father, she realized as she stood up, was Aaron Hotchner.

"Aaron Hotchner," he introduced, shaking her hand. His face was relatively stoic, but his eyes twinkled. "It's a pleasure, Anthea."

"Likewise," Anthea gave him a bright smile, and felt Spencer's hand touch the small of her back again. She leaned back into his touch, feeling the tension leave her shoulders. The worst was over.


	13. 10 - 2

"Morgan and Savana are that way, we should go say hi," Spencer's voice was in her ear, and Anthea willingly turned away from her conversation with Garcia and stood up, allowing him to tug her through the dwindling guests towards an incredibly good-looking couple. The woman held a swaddling of blankets in her arms, and Anthea realized that must be the baby. However, her nerves had receded by this point, and she was almost looking forward to finally meeting her hosts. Her anxiety seemed to have transferred to Spencer.

Anthea giggled, causing him to look at her in slight confusion. She pulled him to a stop and placed her hands on his shoulders, pulling herself up to his level. "Nervous?" she asked the same question he had repeatedly asked her earlier that day.

Spencer's lips twitched. "On a scale of one to ten?" Anthea nodded. He rested his forehead against hers. "Four."

"Is it the people?"

"A little."

"You know I'm right here."

"And so am I."

"Good," she smiled and squeezed his hand, indicating that they should continue walking. They reached the smiling couple, and she noticed the positively evil grin on Morgan's face.

"Well, well," he rubbed his hands together gleefully and pulled Spencer in for a one-arm hug that made Anthea smile. "Reid's got himself a girl, has he?"

"Derek, shut up," Savana rolled her eyes and turned to Anthea. "It's really nice to meet you, Anthea. Finally, someone who isn't licensed to carry a gun," she rolled her eyes and Anthea laughed.

"It's nice to meet you too. And congratulations," she added. Savana smiled blissfully and Anthea cooed at the little human in her arms. "Oh, he's so precious."

"That he is," said Morgan, the double meaning clear. He drew an arm around his wife and grinned at Anthea. "So you're the mystery lady?"

"Looks like it," Anthea grinned back, however her eyes widened in surprise when Morgan swooped down and planted a smacking kiss on her cheek. Savana and Morgan laughed at her expression, while Spencer merely shook his head.

"I promised myself if Reid ever introduced me to his girlfriend I'd give her a proper welcome to the family," winked Morgan.

"Right," Anthea was still slightly dazed, but she snapped out of it quickly. "You named him after Spencer?" she asked, smoothly avoiding a break in conversation.

"He's very important to both of us," said Savana, giving him an affectionate smile. "But if he ever messes with you, come see me," she grinned.

"Or me," added Morgan. Spencer shook his head at his friend's words, and the older man grinned. "I'm kidding. Reid'll keep you happy no matter what, I trust him to do that."

"He makes me very happy, don't worry about that," Anthea stopped making faces at the baby long enough to throw Spencer an affectionate look, which he returned. He excused them quickly after that, practically dragging her away from the grinning couple. When they were a safe distance away, however, Anthea stopped him. "Spencer."

"I thought you wanted to get away?" Spencer's eyes had turned from serene to hunted in a second, and Anthea sighed before tugging him towards a corner, where she was sure they would have a relative amount of privacy. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest, sighing in contentment when he held her tighter.

"Too many people?" she asked quietly.

Spencer shook his head, his hand resting against the back of her head. "It's not that."

"Is it because I'm the first girl you've ever been able to introduce to them?"

Spencer froze. Anthea looked up at him, her eyes wide and utterly innocent. She had no idea the impact her words had had on him, and he didn't want her to know. Not like this. He could be normal for her, at least in this one aspect. He took a deep breath. "I wanted you to meet them, you know that."

She wasn't fooled. Anthea frowned. "Did I do something wrong?"

Spencer sighed. "No, you were perfect," he assured her, and kissed her hair. The public display of affection was so unexpected that Anthea froze for a second, but it was enough for Spencer to notice. He made a sound of frustration, but Anthea grabbed his forearms before he could pull away.

"Don't move," she instructed firmly. "Talk."

They had had this conversation so many times. "I can't be that person for you."

"Not this again, Spencer, please."

"My life isn't all christenings and dinner parties, Thea."

"I don't care."

"It's not going to be this easy to ignore all of that stuff."

"I don't want to ignore it. I want to deal with it. _Your_ way of dealing with it is to ignore it."

He was quiet for a second, but his grip on her didn't loosen and Anthea was grateful for that. When he finally spoke, his voice was small. "I'm sorry I can't be normal for you."

"Oh, Spencer," Anthea sighed and looked up at his stressed face. "Normal is just a label, and I don't care what other people think. I love _you_ , remember?"

"You told me that before you knew what you were getting yourself into," reminded Spencer.

"You're an FBI agent who profiles criminals and tracks down serial killers, of course I knew what I was getting myself into," said Anthea. Her grip on his arms didn't loosen, as if she was afraid he would run away. He _hated_ how insecure she got over him sometimes, but it was his own fault. "You don't have to worry that your craziness is going to push me away. I don't even know why you're worried tonight. We're at a party with your friends. This _is_ what other people call normal."

He cracked a smile at that, and Anthe's answering smile was brilliant. Spencer smiled at her often: in fact, she was sure he had never frowned at her since they had started dating. While she was happy that he seemed to enjoy being around her so much, she knew part of his good mood stemmed from the fact that she had been completely cut off from his work life. Now that she had met his friends, however, separating the two would be difficult. She wondered if he realized what he had gotten himself into.


	14. 10 - 3

"Hey, Spence."

Spencer tore his eyes away from Anthea's laughing face and turned to see who was calling him. JJ smiled and sat down, and it was then he realized she had switched seats with Rossi, allowing him the chance to chat with Anthea and Garcia while he was left alone. He smiled back at his friend, and the blonde woman winked. "Can't take your eyes off her?"

Spencer shrugged, slightly bashful. "She's great."

"She is," agreed JJ. Affectionately, she punched his arm. "So why'd you keep her a secret?"

Spencer winced. He had hoped that introducing Anthea to his friends at an event held in honour of Morgan's son would mean they would spend most of their time _not_ interrogating him, but clearly that would not be the case; after all, JJ had switched seats and come to speak to him at the first opportunity. He took a sip of his drink, his eyes zeroing in on the figure of his girlfriend again. She was sitting at the same table right opposite him, politely engaged in conversation with Rossi and Garcia as she cradled little Michael in her arms. Beside them, Will was patting a sleeping Henry on the arm absently as he listened to them speak. Judging by the way even Hotch was smiling openly, he felt sure they all liked her.

"Spence?" JJ's soft voice broke him out of his daze, and when he turned to look at her he saw that her face looked like it was ready to break from smiling. She'd caught him staring again.

"Sorry, what was that?" Spencer rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

JJ took pity on him and didn't tease, instead repeated herself. "I asked why you kept her a secret."

Spencer shrugged. "She wasn't a secret. You never asked if I was seeing anyone."

"Because when you see someone new you're supposed to tell us anyway," pointed out JJ. However, she didn't press the issue, for which Spencer was grateful. "So, she's a professor?"

"Senior lecturer at Georgetown, yes," and then he smiled. "You're saying Garcia hasn't told you everything about her yet?"

JJ laughed. "I didn't let her say much," she assured him. "We wanted to let you make the introductions yourself. How'd you meet her?"

"Recruitment fair at Georgetown," JJ raised an eyebrow, not appreciative of his short answers, so Spencer elaborated. "I was a guest lecturer and she was looking for a place to do her PhD. Rossi was friends with her uncle, so we were introduced briefly. She had a lot of questions about my lecture, but we had to leave. I went back the next day because they needed an SSA to go with the next batch of alumni recruits," JJ snorted, clearly indicating that Spencer's excuse was weak. He had obviously wanted to see her again. Spencer tried not to blush. "I saw her again, and she cornered me afterwards to debate the usefulness of psychoanalysis," Spencer remembered that day vividly. "I didn't know she was a critical theory nut, or I'd have been nicer. We ended up talking for so long that her friend left without her and she had to call a cab, so I waited with her."

"And?" prompted JJ.

Spencer looked away uncomfortably. "And nothing, I guess. She lived close by, we met up for coffee a few times. It was normal, JJ. I didn't have to save her from a serial killer or a psycho ex, or anything stupid like that."

JJ blinked at the frustration in Spencer's tone and rested a hand on his shoulder gently. "Is there something you want to let out, Spence?" Spencer didn't answer. JJ sighed. "You can say it to me, Spencer. What's got you so worked up? It's a good thing you haven't had to save her from something like that, believe me."

Spencer closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. He let out a deep breath and opened them, quickly glancing at Anthea again. She was laughing at something Tara had said. Her eyes were bright. It made him want to smile and punch something at the same time. "I'm in love with her," he said quietly. "And she's in love with me."

JJ was silent for a few seconds. "And that's a bad thing?" she asked finally. She was making an effort to sound casual, but Spencer knew his confession had made his friend happy.

"It's not a bad thing, it's just not great," Spencer sighed. "I kept her away from work, JJ, not from you guys. I don't want her to see the things I have to see every day. I want to protect her, but she doesn't let me. She shows up at my apartment when I'm back from a case, I don't even _want_ to talk and she just sits there and reads or grades papers, but she never leaves," he shook his head wonderingly. "I have issues, I know that. I could barely touch her for the first few months, even though I _really_ wanted to, and she acted like it was completely normal. She doesn't know anything," he added, when he saw JJ prepare to speak. "About Maeve or the kidnapping and the addiction, any of that stuff, but I wouldn't be surprised if she knew and she was just acting like she didn't because I haven't told her myself."

"It's alright to want to protect her because you love her, Spencer," said JJ when Spencer finally stopped speaking. "Will's still like that, even _I'm_ like that with him and the kids. It never really goes away. I don't know anything about her, but from what you've said she sounds about perfect for you. You loved Maeve, but that doesn't mean you can't love Anthea too," JJ squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "She just doesn't want you to deal with everything alone. I'd say that's exactly what you need."

"I guess," Spencer wasn't convinced, but he gave his friend a smile to show he appreciated the willing ear. JJ smiled back and got up, heading back to the other end of the table where Anthea was now playing with an awake baby Michael and still talking to Garcia, while both Rossi and Tara were debating on whether or not to head home. Hotch and Jack were standing nearby, now in conversation with Will and a sleepy Henry.

"You look like you're all having fun," grinning, Morgan joined them, arm wrapped around Savannah and cradling his baby boy in his other arm. A chorus of hellos and coos greeted them as Garcia demanded to hold the baby. Willingly, Morgan let her as he leaned against the back of Anthea's chair, poking the back of her head with his finger, causing her to swat at his hand. "Don't get too comfy there, professor," he teased Anthea, indicating Michael. "I don't think the kid is ready to have a kid yet." Around them, everyone laughed as Anthea turned red, and even Spencer smiled at their interaction. Despite only knowing each other for a few moments, he was happy and a little surprised to see that out of all his friends, Anthea seemed to get along with Morgan as if she had known him her whole life.

"Shut up, Derek," Savannah interjected, rolling her eyes. She winked at Spencer and turned to Anthea. "If you ever feel like babysitting, _please_ let me know."

"I will," Anthea laughed. "And don't worry, I'm not ready either, but I'm willing to babysit," Anthea handed off Michael to his father. "I grew up in a stuffy house in central Chicago crawling with cousins, the only way to survive was to like kids."

"You're from Chicago? So is Morgan," said JJ, eyes wide with surprise.

"Yeah, Spencer mentioned that. South Side, right?" Anthea tilted her head back to look at Morgan, who nodded. She smiled. "My brother was a cop there. 17th district."

No one at the table asked her why she had used the past tense, and Spencer saw the look of relief on her face at the lack of response. She hated talking about it, it was still too soon, but he was glad she had opened up even a little in front of his friends.

Finally, Will spoke. "So, you moved to DC recently?"

Anthea shook her head. "I grew up in Chicago, but I went to boarding-school here. I've been to college all over the states, though. I've always liked moving around."

Rossi chose that moment to ask her about her family, and Anthea immediately gave him her full attention. The rest of the team broke off into groups, but Spencer merely stared at her. He knew he did that a lot: she had teased him about it mercilessly the first time she had caught him doing it, but he had seen that it seemed to make her happy so he stopped trying to hide it. He loved watching her talk; he had always thought words and ideas that he had seen and read sounded so much more interesting when he heard them in her voice. It took him a few minutes, however, to remember that he was at a table full of profilers, but by then it was too late. JJ and Tara were giving him knowing looks, and Morgan looked like his face would break from smiling.

They left soon after, and Morgan and Savannah walked them out. The two women had already made plans to meet for lunch on the weekend, and Spencer knew his relationship wouldn't stay private for long: Savannah and Morgan beat Garcia when it came to nosing into his life. However, he still couldn't help but smile at them both. He hadn't been worried about how everyone would react to Anthea, but the unconditional acceptance they had offered had made him happy.

"That was nice," said Anthea quietly, a few minutes into their journey. Spencer threw her a quick smile, but his instincts forced him to keep his eyes on the road. Anthea was a slightly reckless driver, easily juggling an audio book or a song on her stereo system as she navigated DC's traffic, but Spencer preferred to be safer. She obviously didn't share his opinion, because she leaned across and rested her head against his arm, sighing tiredly.

"Do you want me to take you home?" asked Spencer concernedly. They rarely spent time apart on weekends when he was in town, but he knew she was exhausted.

"I left a bag at your place," came a sleepy murmur in response. "Eyes on the road, Dr. Reid."

 **!**

Spencer ran a hand through his hair tiredly as he closed the file he had been reading, tossing it onto the chair next to the one he was sitting in. His dining table was a mess of loose papers and manila folders, and though he was an organized disaster when he was working, he had a sneaking suspicious that most of the brightly coloured plastic folders belonged to the woman currently fast asleep in his bed.

Anthea had been exhausted when they returned, and Spencer had had to practically carry her into the bedroom. However, once he had taken off her shoes and pulled the covers up to her chin, his own exhaustion had slipped away and he had, unwillingly, started on some paperwork.

"You need sleep," came a disapproving voice from the doorway. Spencer jumped and glanced at the hallway that led to his bedroom. Anthea was leaning against the wall, her arms folded across her chest. She had obviously woken up a while ago, because the spare glasses she kept in his side-table drawer were perched on top of her head, holding her hair away from her face and she was changed out of her dressy clothes into a large Georgetown t-shirt and a pair of pyjama bottoms that were much too large for her. Spencer knew most people wouldn't find her current attire attractive, but he did. Anthea spent most of her time looking immaculate, and he was strangely happy that she didn't mind unwinding in front of him.

"I do," he conceded. Anthea crossed the room and leaned against his chair for a brief second, but Spencer wound an arm around her waist and tugged her down onto his lap, smiling softly at her giggle. "You were hogging my bed."

"I'm the reason you even like going to bed these days," she reminded him. She made herself comfortable and settled her head against his chest. "Thanks for taking off my shoes."

"You're welcome."

"I missed you," her voice was so quiet that Spencer almost missed it, but the stiffening of her shoulders told him he had heard right. "I really, really, _really_ missed you."

"I missed you too," Spencer tightened his hold on her. "I know this case was long, Thea, but you knew I'd be back before the christening."

"I know."

"Then why are you sad?" he gently pushed her away and was surprised to find tears in her eyes. "What's wrong?" he tried to keep his voice soft, but the panic seeped into his tone nevertheless. Ten months of knowing her and six months of being with her, and yet every time her eyes so much as watered he was seized with panic.

"I'm okay," she assured him quickly, cracking a smile despite her swollen eyes. She quickly wiped away her tears. "I'm going back to bed. Will you –"

Spencer cut her off with a kiss. Anthea squeaked, but her surprise was quickly forgotten. She clung to him, her desperation almost tangible. Spencer was unbelievable gentle, his calloused fingers running through her hair as he shifted her from his lap to the table, ignoring the papers and folders that littered the surface. Anthea returned his affection eagerly, and Spencer realized with a jolt that she _had_ missed him. She had barely let him go all night, and when she had fallen asleep he had left the room. He knew night terrors were a common thing for her now, and he cursed himself for not noticing how distressed she was before.

Anthea broke the kiss, her breathing heavier than usual. Spencer rested his forehead against hers and caressed her cheek softly. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't know you were this upset."

"I'm not this upset normally when you leave," said Anthea quietly. She bit her lip. "I- I'm sorry, Spencer, I know you told me not to but when you told me you were going to be late I watched the news."

His eyes widened in recognition and immediately he had wrapped her in a hug. "Thea, why didn't you –"

"There was a bomb," she choked out. Her tears had started again, but Spencer didn't stop them this time. Wordlessly, he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, setting her down onto the covers and pulling her into his chest. She was trembling. "You confronted a man with enough explosives to blow up an entire street," she sobbed, burying her face into his chest again. " _How_ could you –"

"Sweetheart, I knew what I was doing," he soothed, cutting off her broken sentence. "I promise you, it wasn't a stupid risk. He wasn't going to blow us up."

"What if he had?" her wide-tear-filled eyes made Spencer rethink his answer, that it was illogical of the bomber to blow up only one person when he aimed to kill hundreds in one go. That wouldn't comfort her, it would terrify her.

He sighed. "It's the job, Thea," he kissed her forehead. "I'm good at what I do. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

"Please don't leave me," he had never seen her look so broken. "Robbie almost broke my heart, Spencer, and you're the only person I've ever loved more than him. Don't leave me."

"Sweetheart, I can't –"

"Please, Spencer."

"I can't promise you that something bad won't happen," said Spencer gently. "But I _can_ promise you that I'll be careful."

"I don't want something bad to happen to you," she whispered. "I don't want that phone call again, Spencer."

"I don't want to do that to you, either," he sighed. "Thea, you know I'll understand if –"

"I love you," despite her raspy voice, the words still sent a quick jolt through Spencer every time she said them. "I can't leave you. Just promise me I won't get that call again, Spencer. Please."

He couldn't promise her, and he didn't. But he held her the whole night, and most of the morning after that as well, rocking her back and forth gently. By mid-afternoon the next day, he was exhausted, but Anthea was asleep and dreaming peacefully, and strangely that made his exhaustion quite bearable.


	15. 11

**11 months later**

"– and there's a sign-up sheet outside my door for a reason, guys!" called out Anthea to the quickly disappearing freshmen at the end of her lecture. "Use it!"

There were a few laughs at her statement, and Anthea rolled her eyes as she quickly packed her papers into her bag and logged out of her account on the computer. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed someone coming down towards her instead of the exit. Mentally wondering if someone had indeed decided to stop and ask her a question, she looked up and was surprised at who she saw.

"Spencer?" her eyes nearly bogged out of her head at the sight of her boyfriend strolling towards her casually, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. He gave her a small smile, and Anthea smiled back, resisting the urge to tackle him in a hug. He saved her from the urge, however, when he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

"Hey," he murmured. "Sorry to barge in on you like this."

Anthea shook her head and reached for his hand, which he gave her with another smile. "Have you been here all this time?"

"Yeah," he grinned. "I told you I always wanted to see you in action."

"I'll ask you what you thought of that in detail later," Anthea rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag off the table, leading him out of the lecture hall. "What are you doing here? I thought you were on a case."

"I got back this morning," Spencer shrugged. "I wanted to see you but your car was home and I know you just have one lecture today, so I thought I'd give you a lift." Anthea hummed in response. They crossed the quad and headed towards her office, their hands still linked. Knowing Spencer's problem with public displays of affection, Anthea didn't try to push it. So, when he drew an arm around her waist and took her bag from her hand, she raised an eyebrow at him. He smiled, a little tightly. "I didn't know you had so many… admirers."

"Admirers?" Anthea frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The freshmen," she had never heard him sound so… disgruntled. "They were talking about you."

Anthea bit her lip to avoid smiling. The rest of the walk to her office was silent. When they reached her room, however, Spencer sank into the chair opposite her desk and Anthea knew he had something to say. She hesitated for only a second before settling onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. He looked surprised, but not displeased. His arms tightened around her waist.

"Spill," she brushed his hair out of his eyes.

"There isn't anything to spill," he protested.

Anthea smiled. "Well, I hope you're not jealous, Dr. Reid."

"I'm not," said Spencer immediately, but he sounded unsure. "Jealousy implies that I'm uncomfortable with the idea of you seeing other men in a social environment, but these are your students and you don't control their thoughts. I just…" he trailed off, and then frowned. "They were wondering if inappropriate activities could get them better grades."

"You sound like my father," snorted Anthea. "Of course they were wondering that. I'm pretty sure _I_ even wondered that when my professor was semi-attractive."

"You're more than semi-attractive."

"To you, I should hope so," Anthea smiled got off his lap, tugging him to his feet so she could give him a hug. His arms wound around her easily enough, and it made her heart flutter. She knew how much he tried when it came to physical affection, even though he thought she was oblivious to it. She pulled back and kissed his cheek. "They're kids, Spencer. You catch the worst criminals for a living and a bunch of hormonal college kids have got you annoyed?"

Spencer managed a small smile. "Those hormonal college kids made me realize something."

"What's that?"

He hesitated. "I'm lucky you decided to stick with me after those first few months," he confessed. "I did nothing to deserve how wonderful you were to me."

"You needed to see if you could do this, I can understand that," Anthea shrugged off his words. "But I'm really not going anywhere."

"Neither am I."

Anthea gave him a bright smile, showing her delight at his words. Spencer was never lacking in verbal affection when they were alone, not anymore, but every time he said anything sweet her pulse sped up and she wanted to squeal. Deciding that her desired reaction would be ridiculous, however, she got on her toes and kissed him again, intending to keep it short and sweet. Clearly, Spencer had other ideas. He caught her lips before she could pull away and gently nudged her back towards her desk. In a trice, he had set her upon it and was kissing her again, his palms resting on either side of her crossed legs. Anthea ran her fingers through his hair, smiling against his lips when she felt his hands come to rest on her hips.

"Not that I'm complaining, but –" her murmur was cut off when Spencer's mouth went from her lips to her neck. He sucked on her pulse point gently, sending her heart racing again. Anthea gasped at the sensation, her fingers tightening in his hair reflexively. There was an uncharacteristic smirk on his face when he pulled back.

"You were saying?" he prompted.

Anthea stared at him for a few seconds before his words registered in her mind. She blushed. "Uh, never mind," Spencer chuckled and she buried her face into his chest, giggling despite herself. "Pretty sure we just fulfilled every college student's secret fantasy."

"What's that?" asked Spencer curiously.

"Inappropriate activities in the professor's office."

"That fantasy goes beyond kissing," pointed out Spencer. The adorable part was there was no suggestiveness in his voice. To him, it was just a fact.

Anthea's eyes glinted. "I'm not opposed to –" the shrill ringing of Spencer's cell-phone cut her off, and she groaned. "Don't answer that."

Spencer smiled sadly and kissed her forehead, digging his phone out of his pocket and answering it quickly. "Reid."

He was quiet for a few seconds, only making sounds of agreement now and then. When the phone call was over, Anthea bit her lip. "Case?"

"Nope, JJ called to say we're joining the team for dinner tomorrow," said Spencer. Anthea sighed in relief and he chuckled. "I have the afternoon off today too, do you want to get that book from my place?"

"Sure. Have you eaten?"

He looked chagrined. "Err, no I haven't."

Anthea narrowed her eyes. "Well, dinner isn't for another eight hours so I'm not letting you stay hungry till then. Come on, march," she gestured for him to precede her out the door. Spencer rolled his eyes and obeyed, but grabbed her papers and laptop off the desk first, refusing to allow her to carry anything.

Once they were settled in his car and driving towards her apartment, she finally asked the question she had been burning to voice. "How was your case?"

"Tiring," he gave her a small smile.

"Did you catch him?"

"Her," corrected Spencer.

Anthea bit her lip. "Can you tell me a little more?"

Spencer's hands tightened on the wheel. "Later," he said finally. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Of course," Anthea mentally slapped herself. Spencer never wanted to talk about his cases and she knew that, it was just her burning curiosity that was getting the better of her. She gave him an apologetic smile, and Spencer, in a very uncharacteristic move, took one hand off the wheel to squeeze hers reassuringly.

 **!**

"– and I told Alice it was ridiculous, but she didn't listen to me! Can you believe it?" demanded Anthea.

Spencer smiled. "From what I've heard about Alice, yes, I can."

Anthea narrowed her eyes. "But you agree with me?"

Spencer shrugged. "Agree to disagree."

Anthea rolled her eyes and tossed a paper napkin at him. "You're mean."

"Sorry," Spencer reached over and grasped her hand, noting once again that her eyes widened minutely when he did. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"What?" asked Anthea. Almost absently, she linked their fingers together as she continued to flip through the restaurant menu with her other hand. "Do you remember what I had here last time?"

"Number 27," said Spencer automatically. Anthea smiled and returned to the menu, but he persisted. "You look surprised every time I touch you."

Anthea looked up immediately, her eyebrows furrowed. "I do not."

Spencer was speaking before he could stop himself. "You're doing it unconsciously. It's normally when we're in public, so it's easy to overlook in between conversations. Your eyes widen a little bit and then you look away or distract yourself with something else," slightly awkward now, he ran a hand through his hair. "Did I do something?"

"Of course not, Spencer," Anthea looked annoyed. Spencer knew why; she hated it when he profiled her. "Nothing's wrong, okay?"

"Okay, sorry," knowing better than to push it, Spencer wisely dropped the subject.

They didn't speak for a while; Anthea was still struggling with her food choices, and Spencer was trying very hard not to observe her behaviour to see what was wrong. They placed their orders when the waitress came, and as she left Anthea sighed. "Okay, how long have I been doing it for?"

Spencer shrugged. "A couple of days, since the christening I think."

Anthea's eyes widened. "Why didn't you say anything before?" she demanded.

Spencer smiled a little. "You always think it's profiling when I point out things like this."

"Because it is!"

"No, it isn't," Spencer squeezed her hand. "Thea, I don't notice things about you because it's my job. I notice things about you because I love you."

Anthea blinked, and once again Spencer noticed the brief look of surprise on her face when he spoke. She seemed to realize what she had done as well, because this time her eyes widened in recognition. "Oh my God, you're right."

"I'm sorry, I –"

"No, don't apologize, this is totally my fault," she looked upset. "It's because I know how weird this is for you, Spencer, and I never want you to feel like you _need_ to do things you're not comfortable with just to make me happy."

Spencer blinked. It took him over ten seconds to register what exactly she meant, but only five seconds to decide how to respond. Anthea thought his random displays of affection at the christening, when they took walks in the park, even that morning at Georgetown or now when they were out for dinner were uncharacteristic, and he was only showing her how he felt because he had seen how much she liked it when he did. She thought he didn't _want_ to do it.

His first instinct was to feel guilty – how had he acted in the past, to make this amazing woman think it would be illogical for her to demand public displays of affection from him, the man she loved? He couldn't answer for his own behaviour, and judging by the look of comforting acceptance in Anthea's eyes, she had never expected him to _ever_ show her any kind of physical affection when in public. His second instinct was to correct this assumption: they were seated opposite each other in a small, cosy booth, and he immediately closed the distance between them, so they were practically side by side. Anthea gave him a look of utter confusion as he neared her, and he ignored her expression as he kissed her, hard.

Spencer's mind always went blissfully quiet when he kissed Anthea; his senses pushed themselves into overdrive until he felt like he was drowning in her. Her touch, her taste, her scent… everything about her was completely overpowering, and logically he knew it was his emotions towards her that caused this, but it was _incredible._ How could he be reluctant to show her how he felt, this beautiful woman who quite literally dumbfounded him by her mere presence? He knew his emotional range was stunted, but he had never thought it was _this_ bad.

And he tried to convey that to her now, through a drawn-out kiss in the middle of a crowded Chinese restaurant where more than one person was almost definitely staring at them. He didn't care, and he was surprised at how true that statement was as it crossed his mind. He _didn't_ care. He rested a hand on her hip and pulled her closer, relishing in her proximity. She was kissing him back, her hands bunching up the front of his sweater-vest in an obvious attempt to make sure they didn't wander. But he didn't care if they did. Physical affection was about comfort, and he was more than comfortable doing this.

Anthea was the one who broke the kiss, her expression dazed. As she tried to gather her thoughts, Spencer noted that her lips were faintly swollen from the pressure he had applied. He felt smug, on a very primal level, and he didn't bother to hide it.

Anthea's voice was slightly husky when she spoke. "Not that I'm complaining," she said, and flushed when she heard what she sounded like. She cleared her throat. "Umm, just don't make that a habit, okay?"

Spencer raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

Her eyes widened. "You're acting dumb, right?"

Spencer shook his head. "I told you, Thea, I don't profile you."

"I would really appreciate it if you profiled me right now," groaned Anthea. Without invitation, she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. Spencer realized he was still sitting next to her, uncommonly close in the booth. It was nice.

"Talk to me," he drew an arm around her and squeezed her hand.

"There's nothing to talk about, Spencer. You've made it clear I'm not the only one who enjoys this," she held up their linked hands and turned her head slightly to smile at him. "That's all I need."

But it clearly wasn't, and Spencer could tell she was hiding something from him. Still, he didn't see the point in pushing her. Anthea had a short temper when she was accused of hiding something, even if it was true. So, Spencer kissed the top of her head and changed the subject smoothly. They could talk about it later. They had time, a luxury he had never had before. That was nice too.


	16. 11 - 1

"You don't have Christmas off, do you?"

Spencer blinked at the random question and gave Anthea a questioning look. "Off?"

"Holidays," Anthea chewed the end of her pen thoughtfully as she looked up from the paper she had been writing on, presumably an essay that required marking. "You guys get called in over Christmas and stuff, right?"

"We try to spend at least Christmas day out of the office, and sometimes people on the team take an extra few days," Spencer shrugged. "Hotch tries to keep the cases local around that time too, unless there's an emergency."

"I see," Anthea turned back to whatever she was doing, but Spencer curiosity was piqued. Marking the page in his book, he put it away and stood up, careful not to disturb Zeus, who had fallen asleep with a paw on his knee as he had begged for scraps from the sandwich Spencer had been eating. Anthea's apartment was dim, the only light coming from the setting sun outside and the various lamps lit around the living-room as they both worked on opposite ends of it, her marking essays scattered on the coffee-table while sitting cross-legged on the floor, and him refreshing his French history on the sofa.

Anthea looked up and gave him a smile as he sat down next to her and kissed her temple. "Hi," she murmured, leaning against his shoulder. "Finished your book?"

"Mostly," Spencer reached for her hand, and she gave it to him immediately. "Zeus likes me now."

"Because you feed him scraps whenever he asks," Anthea smiled and gave her sleeping dog a fond look before turning back to Spencer expectantly. "You hungry? I can order in."

"Later," Spencer raised his eyebrows when he saw what she had been doing. "I thought you were working."

"I tried," Anthea laughed quietly and closed the leather-bound diary, where she had been marking dates in the small calendar. She turned to face him and brushed his hair out of his eyes gently. "Can we talk?"

Spencer tried not to display how worried her words had made him. There was no reason to be: she was still smiling, still sitting close to him, and her body language indicated that, while the topic concerned her, it didn't distress her. So, she wasn't breaking up with him, at least. "Sure. What's on your mind?"

"Okay, first of all I want you to know that there is no pressure here and I don't expect you to say yes or no to anything right away," said Anthea. Nervously, she tucked her hair behind her ears and began to tap her fingers against her thigh. Automatically, Spencer reached forward to grasp her hand, stilling her movements. It was something he had learned that Anthea needed. The tapping was a nervous habit that she had developed as a child, and it came up often, when she was anxious or in social situations when she didn't know what to do. If it ever came up when she was with Spencer, however, he stopped it immediately, finding that it was then easier for her to speak about whatever was on her mind. They had never actually discussed it; it was one of the few times Anthea had been glad of his ability to profile her, he knew that.

"Go on," he encouraged. Anthea smiled nervously.

"Well, Robbie called the other day and told me that our parents are hosting a big Christmas party this year, because my dad is finally retiring," she bit her lip. "Of course, my mom will call and tell me all about it soon, but he wanted to give me the heads-up because they want to meet you. So, the invitation will be for both of us."

Meeting the parents. It wasn't as bad as Spencer had expected. They had been dating for well over four months, and he knew the appropriate time to tell family members wasn't set in stone: it depended on the people involved. Anthea hadn't been reluctant to tell friends and family about them, but he had been, and that had obviously impeded her decision as well. Now that his team knew and had met her, however, it was unfair to expect her to keep him a secret.

"I don't –" he began to speak, wanting to tell her it wasn't a problem, but Anthea held up a hand, asking for silence.

"Before you say anything, I just want to explain," her large green eyes bore into his relentlessly. "I told you I'm adopted, and you know my parents and Robbie love me. You've met Robbie, you know how close we are. The fact that we're not biologically related has never come up, and I'm really, _really_ lucky to have them. But the Graysons are also a very old-fashioned, very wealthy family. And some of them aren't as nice as Robbie, or my mom and dad. I've learned to deal with it and accept it, but you shouldn't have to."

"Families are rarely perfect, Thea," said Spencer gently. "If you're not okay with it –"

"No, that's not it," she tucked her hair behind her ears again. "I want you to meet my family, _all_ of them. I also want you to go to their Christmas party with me. But I just really want you to meet my parents without any of the fancy stuff that comes along with it," she sighed. "I was going to go to Chicago for Thanksgiving weekend. I know there's no guarantee you'll have the time off, but do you think you could manage to spend at least part of the holidays with me over there? It'll be much more low-pressure, for both of us, and I do really want them to get to know you."

Spencer blinked. "You _want_ me to spend two sets of holidays with your family?"

"Of course I do!" Anthea looked surprised at his confusion. "I don't want to spend any free time we might have away from you, and I know you rarely have plans over the holidays. Or would you like to go see your mom instead?" she was backpedalling now, because he was still silent, too dumbstruck by her willingness to put up with him for so long. "Of course, I don't want to impose if you'd already decided that was what you wanted to do, and I don't want you to feel like you have to take me along because I –"

Spencer knew that kissing Anthea to make her stop talking wasn't the most healthy way for their relationship to progress, but he was realizing more and more how easy it was to get her to stop rambling if he offered up a suitable distraction. So far, physical affection was the best way to accomplish that, and it also made her smile. He couldn't put into words how much he appreciated everything she did, and how sorry he was that she had to do it, but gestures like this seemed to be a good way to express himself. The fact that he enjoyed kissing her was, of course, simply a bonus.

Anthea pushed him back slightly after a few seconds, her lips curved upwards in a smile. "You're making a habit of this."

"Sorry," said Spencer unapologetically. He tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "This is what I meant to say: I'd love to spend the holidays with you. And the next time I can go see my mom, I want you to come with me."

Anthea beamed, and Spencer smiled back, because she looked so _happy_ and it made his heart fill with joy, as if all the clichés were true after all. "I love you, Dr. Reid."

"I love you too," and saying it had never been easier.


	17. 11 - 2

_"_ _Are you sure it's safe for you to be there alone?"_

"I'm in a police station," said Spencer. He held the phone between his shoulder and ear and carefully marked a sentence in the document he was reading. "There are officers on duty right now, I can't be any safer."

Anthea sighed. _"Please tell me you have your gun on you at all times."_

"Considering the fact that this unsub is killing people after dragging them into abandoned alleyways to make it look like a mugging gone wrong, I don't think having a gun on me will help."

 _"_ _You're making fun of me."_

"I'm not," Spencer smiled and dropped his pen, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "I really miss you."

He could practically hear her smile at his words. _"You better come back to me in one piece then."_

"I will," he leaned back in his chair. "You should get some sleep. It's past midnight."

 _"_ _I don't mind staying awake."_

Spencer shook his head and picked up his pen again. "You should sleep. Aren't you teaching Derrida tomorrow?"

Anthea groaned. _"You talked me into taking that freshmen theory class!"_

"Because you said you wanted to teach it!"

 _"_ _It's at eight in the morning! I'd rather sleep, believe me."_

"No, you wouldn't," Spencer looked up to see Morgan walk into the room, coffee in hand, and held up one finger. "I have to go now. I'll call you tomorrow afternoon."

 _"_ _Just text me in the morning."_

"Anthea, I just told you I'm –"

 _"_ _Spencer!"_

"Okay, I –" he didn't get to complete his sentence, because Morgan had swiped his phone from his hand and was already holding it up to his own ear, grinning wickedly.

"Good afternoon, sunshine," he crooned into the phone, his grin threatening to split his face at whatever Anthea replied. Spencer smiled at his friend's antics, and Morgan winked before putting the phone on speaker, setting it on the table between them. "Reid's been treating you good or do I need to have a talk with him?"

 _"_ _Hello, Derek,"_ Anthea sounded like she was trying not to laugh. _"I appreciate your concern but he's great. How're Savannah and the baby?"_

"Doing great, though we'd love for you to come and visit sometime," Morgan gave Reid a pointed look. "How about I hook her up with your number and we can have dinner when this case is over?"

 _"_ _That sounds nice,"_ Anthea definitely sounded amused now. _"Are you forcing Spencer to socialise with me in public so you can tease him about it later?"_

"Damn, you're good," grinning, Morgan got up from his seat. "Expect an invite by tomorrow, sunshine. See you later."

 _"_ _Bye, Derek, stay safe."_

Spencer took the phone back and rolled his eyes as he pressed it to his ear again. "Sorry about that."

 _"_ _You know I don't mind,"_ said Anthea easily. _"Get back to work, I'll speak to you tomorrow?"_

"Tomorrow is great. Bye."

 _"_ _Stay safe, Spencer."_

 **!**

" _Hi, is this Dr. Anthea Grayson?_ "

"Yes, who is this?" Anthea frowned and glanced at her phone screen again, confirming that she didn't know the number that was calling her.

 _"_ _This is Penelope Garcia, I'm –"_

"I remember," cut in Anthea. "Hi, Penelope."

" _I wish I could say this was a social call,"_ Garcia sounded on edge. " _I'm calling because of Reid."_

Anthea froze. "What happened?" her voice came out slightly breathless.

Penelope let out an audible sigh. _"Reid's been in an accident, he's in recovery now but his file said to contact you in case of –"_

"Which hospital?" interrupted Anthea. She was already gathering her car keys and bag off her desk, ignoring the piles of books and papers she had been planning to take back over the weekend.

" _He's not in DC, Anthea, are you sure –"_

"I need to be there, Penelope," interrupted Anthea. "Which hospital?"

Penelope gave her the name of the hospital and said she'd send a car to pick her up from the airport. Anthea didn't bother to thank her and hung up, her high heels clicking against the marble floor of the reception as she dashed out of her office and ran for the parking lot.

 **!**

She didn't have to look for long: in the foyer of the hospital stood a pretty blonde woman almost a head shorter than her. Anthea recognized her immediately.

"JJ?"

The woman looked up from her phone screen and her eyes lit up in understanding. "Anthea?"

"Yeah," Anthea tucked her loose hair behind her ears hastily and offered her a small smile.

"I didn't realize you were his emergency contact," JJ closed the distance between them and quickly pulled Anthea in for a hug. "Don't worry," she soothed as she pulled back. "He's being taken care of."

Anthea tried to smile again but couldn't. "Is he okay?"

JJ nodded and indicated for her to follow her down the hall. "He's in recovery, he took a bullet to his leg and doctors were afraid it might trigger his old injury, but it didn't. He's still asleep, but you can wait inside his room if you want."

"I'd like that," said Anthea quietly.

"Were you at work?" her attempt at small talk should have annoyed Anthea, but it didn't. She appreciated it and smiled.

"Yeah, I was grading papers. Mid-terms just ended."

"Must be tough. I can barely handle kindergarten homework."

Anthea giggled. "If I had one of my own I'd probably feel the same way."

JJ smiled, and they talked idly about the weather and traffic as they walked through corridors and past wards full of people. Anthea tried not to look inside. Finally, they stopped outside a room with the door open, and she made out the figure of a tall man in a suit sitting in the waiting chair. "May I?"

"Of course," JJ gestured for her to go inside first, and the man in the suit stood up. Anthea recognized him immediately.

"Hi, Hotch," said Anthea. She gave him a small smile and saw that his stoic expression cracked.

He squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay," her eyes drifted to the bed, but she carefully kept them fixed on Spencer's feet. His socks were purple. "How is he?"

"Doctors say he should be coming to any minute now," said Hotch. He indicated the seat he had just vacated and moved towards the exit. "We'll come and check on him later, if that's alright?"

"No problem," Anthea sank into the plastic chair and gave the two agents a small smile. When they were out of sight, she bit her lip and finally looked down.

Spencer had always warned her she may get a call one day like the one she had gotten that afternoon. If she remembered right, it had been on their third date. They had just come back from an art exhibition of one of her favourite artists, and Spencer had remarked that his depictions of war zones were strangely beautiful. She had replied that they were, and had shyly squeezed his hand, pointing out that she was sure he saw worse on a daily basis. Spencer had smiled bitterly and told her, quietly, that it was possible there would come a point when she would be forced to deal with the aftermaths of decisions he would have to make in the field. Anthea had rolled her eyes and said she had grown up accustomed to the idea that the person she loved most in the world could die saving other people: nothing he could say or do would make her change her mind. Spencer had smiled, kissed her cheek and dropped her home without a word.

Now, as she watched him lying in the hospital bed with an IV hooked to his arm and a nasty cut across his lip, she could feel tears prick at the corners of her eyes. Hastily, she blinked them away and sat down in the chair, dropping her bag onto the floor and fishing out her phone from her coat pocket. She sent a text to her neighbour, instructing her to feed her dog and keep the spare key with her. Next, she sent a formal email to her head of department, calling in sick for the next week. By the time she was done, Spencer was stirring.

His expression was confused when his eyes fell on her. Anthea offered him a watery smile. "Hey."

"Hi," his voice was hoarse. Anthea helped him sit up and offered him the cup of water that sat on his bedside, which he accepted gratefully. She took the empty cup from his hands when he was done and put it back onto the table, hesitating before lightly brushing her fingers over his chapped lips. The cut was mostly healed, but still red. He winced.

"Sorry," murmured Anthea. She withdrew her hand, only to have Spencer catch it in his own. She couldn't help the tears that leaked out of her eyes at his gesture, which made him frown. However, before he could speak, there was a sharp knock on the door and JJ and Hotch entered the room, along with Morgan, Tara and Rossi. Anthea gently tried to slip her hand out of Spencer's, only to have him hold it tighter.

"You doing okay, kid?" asked Morgan. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Fine," Spencer cleared his throat. "Did we get him?"

"Just finished the interrogation," said Tara. She threw Anthea a quick smile, and turned back to Spencer. "You going to be okay, doc?"

"He's going to be fine," confirmed Hotch. "The doctors want to keep you for the weekend, Reid, and I told them about your medication, but other than that you're free to go."

"Thanks, Hotch," Spencer winced as he tried to sit up, and Anthea attempted to help him, but he wouldn't let go of her hand so her assistance was minimal.

"We'll let you rest," said Rossi quietly. As everyone gathered around the bed to say goodbye to Spencer, Rossi pulled Anthea aside. "Garcia said she's programmed our numbers into your phone, if you need anything just give us a call. I'm assuming you'll spend the night?" she nodded. "I'll have Hotch tell someone to collect anything you need from your house, just send us a list when you're ready."

Anthea was about to protest, but JJ heard the ending of their conversation and appeared next to her, smiling softly. "Don't worry about it, Anthea, we want to help. Send me a list of anything you want, okay? Toiletries, food, anything."

"Okay," sighed Anthea. She accepted hugs from both women and Morgan and nods from Rossi and Hotch before the door closed and she was finally alone with Spencer.

"Sorry," it was the first thing he said as soon as she turned to face him. He looked like he was in pain, but he remained sitting. "I never wanted you to get a call like that."

Anthea sat down at the edge of his bed carefully and brushed his hair out of his eyes. She offered him a small smile. "As long as you're okay, I don't care. Don't worry about it."

"Did Garcia –"

"She told me you were okay when she called, I didn't freak out too much," assured Anthea. "I'm glad she called me, though. I would have been really worried if I turned on the news and you were on TV."

"That's why I tell you not to watch the news," said Spencer. He smiled and raised a hand, stroking her cheek gently. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Anthea held the hand that rested against her face and sighed quietly. "I'm going to send that list to JJ and call Elizabeth to look after Zeus for the weekend."

"You're staying?"

Anthea gave him a weary look. "Of course I am, Spencer. You got shot. I'm not leaving your side."

"You'll get a backache sleeping in that chair."

"Then I won't sleep," she shrugged and kissed his cheek quickly. "I'll be right back."

When she returned to the room, a nurse was arguing with Spencer, a needle poised over the IV bag. As soon as she walked in, Spencer stopped talking, but the nurse didn't.

"You need the morphine, Dr. Reid, you won't be able to sleep at night without it," she turned around as Anthea walked in and gave her a helpless look. "Maybe you can convince him," she gestured to Spencer helplessly. "He doesn't want medication."

Anthea blinked and tried to catch Spencer's eye, but he was studiously looking away from her. She bit her lip. "I'll call you back in a few minutes," she said to the nurse, who shrugged and walked out of the room. Anthea sat down on the edge of the bed again. "Hey."

"I don't need morphine," said Spencer, keeping his gaze fixed on his hands. "I'm fine."

"Okay," murmured Anthea. She squeezed his hand and walked out of the room, poking her head out and shaking her head at the nurse who was giving her questioning looks. When she came back, Spencer was trying to lie down. "Spencer…" Anthea sighed and helped him lay down again, biting her lip when he groaned in pain. "Are you sure?" he nodded slightly. Anthea sighed and kissed his forehead, allowing him to grasp her hand and squeeze it, hard. "Is there something I should know?" she tried again.

"Yes," he sighed. "I just – not right now, okay? I should have told you before, but I just –"

"Stop," she hushed him and kissed his hand. "I'm just glad you're safe, okay? We can talk about anything you want later."

Spencer didn't want to delay it anymore, not really, but there was a voice in the back of his mind reminding him that once he came clean, Anthea would have every right to walk out of his life and never look back. He wasn't ready for that. He wanted her around all the time, and he _needed_ her, specially right now. Selfishly, he tightened his grip on her hand. "Later," he agreed quietly. Anthea smiled. He couldn't bring himself to smile back.


	18. 11 - 3

_"_ _Careful,_ Derek."

"Don't you worry, sunshine," Morgan flashed Anthea a grin as he helped Spencer settle down onto the couch. "I won't break your boytoy, I promise."

Anthea continued to bite at her thumbnail anxiously as Morgan talked to Spencer, their voices too quiet for her to hear. She looked up and caught Savannah's eye, who offered her a smile. "Don't worry," said the older woman kindly. "You heard what the doctors said, right?"

"Two weeks of bedrest, then back to the office but no travelling for at least a month," rattled off Anthea immediately. "He needs to use his cane for a few weeks while working, no stairs unless absolutely necessary, and physical therapy would be great but I doubt he'll have enough time for it, even though he says he'll try."

Savannah blinked. "Yeah, exactly. Hey, Anthea?"

"Yes?" Anthea's eyes flicked away from Spencer to Savannah, who now looked worried.

"Have you gotten any sleep the last couple of days?"

Anthea ran a hand through her hair, puffing out a breath of air. "I'm okay, Savannah. I've just been worried."

"You're stressing yourself out for no reason," Savannah rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He's okay, I promise. I've read his charts, I'm a doctor, remember?"

"Yeah, I just…" she trailed off and continued to bite her nail. "It was scary."

Savannah sighed and looked at the two men, who were now laughing at something they couldn't hear. "I know how scary it can be to get that call," she said quietly. "Trust me, I know _exactly_ how you feel."

Anthea offered her a small smile. "You've been so great about this, Savannah, you and Derek. Really, I'm so grateful."

"Don't be, we love Spencer and we love you too," Savannah smiled warmly. "Just get some rest too, okay? Take it easy, _both_ of you."

"And then you crazy kids can get back to doing whatever it is you do," added Morgan, ruffling Anthea's hair playfully as he made his way towards the door.

"Behave, Derek," said Savannah, rolling her eyes. "Anthea, remember to call if you need anything, okay? Even if he's being stubborn," she added, giving Spencer a pointed look. "And you better be good, Reid, or you're getting Hank every weekend until you're sixty."

"Sounds like a plan," said Spencer, smiling tiredly. "Thanks, guys."

"We'll head out," said Savannah. She surprised Anthea with a quick, warm hug, and blew Spencer a kiss. "You have our numbers if you need anything."

Anthea waved goodbye and shut the door behind them carefully, resting her hands against the polished wood for a few moments after they'd gone. The past four days had been a rollercoaster, from Spencer getting shot to her flying out to see him in the hospital, culminating in their arrival back at her apartment only a few hours ago. Anthea had insisted he stay with her while he recovered: her place was bigger, she had an elevator, and it would be much easier for her to take care of him that way. Spencer hadn't resisted much, oddly passive while Derek and Anthea had debated the pros and cons of where he would be staying. When the jet had landed, Savannah greeted them at the office with a bag full of things Spencer would need, and an offer to drive them both to Anthea's apartment that was less of an offer and more of an order. Anthea was sure her insistence to come along had less to do with her claim that she wanted to look at Spencer's charts, and more to do with the whole team's need to reassure her that everything was completely fine.

And it _was_ fine. Anthea had to repeat that to herself several times as she stood in the hallway and stared at the door blankly. Spencer was completely fine. The gunshot wound had been messy and painful, but it had avoided major arteries and, while everyone was afraid it might hinder his ability to walk independently for a few weeks, there was no doubt that he would make a full recovery. The same could not be said for the UnSub who had shot Spencer, since Hotch had taken him out with a particularly painful shot to the shoulder, and he was now facing additional charges on top of the many that Anthea hadn't wanted to know about when Rossi had told her how it had all happened.

"Thea?" Spencer's voice jerked her out of her reverie, and she turned around just in time to see him hobbling over to her, his face slightly drawn from the pain of walking around, but nevertheless looking concerned about her. "Hey," he leaned against the wall a few feet away from her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Anthea nodded jerkily and forced herself away from the door, automatically taking Spencer's arm. She let him use her as a crutch and led him back to the couch, fussing over him until she was sure he was settled. She hoped he hadn't noticed that her hands were shaking, or that her eyes were glistening with tears.

But he was Spencer. Of course, he had. "Thea," he sighed and grabbed her hands, halting her as she was in the process of adjusting the pillow behind his head. "I'm okay. I'm right here."

"I know," she smiled and sat down, her hands fiddling with the blanket she'd draped around him. "I'm really glad we're home, too. I hated seeing you in that hospital."

"I'm sorry you had to."

Anthea shook her head immediately. "I _wanted_ to, Spencer. I so desperately wanted to be there for you, what you went through was terrible, but I…" she trailed off suddenly, and the elephant in the room, which had been haunting them since her first night in the hospital, was back.

Spencer gulped uncomfortably. He knew what he had to do. He _had_ to tell her, because now she definitely knew something was wrong. There had been to many whispered discussions she couldn't be privy too, doctors who wanted her to leave the room because his medical history was too sensitive, and a mandatory call to his sponsor that he had fumbled through because she had been asleep in the uncomfortable plastic chair by his bed and he hadn't wanted her to leave. He had been equally terrified and guilty the whole time they had been in the hospital, because he knew Anthea, and he knew her patience would only last so long. And would she even want to be around him, once she learned everything? Hankel, the Diluadid, Maeve…

"Spencer?" her worried voice drew him out of his state of terror, and his eyes snapped to her face. She took scared. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he shook his head and tried to sit up, finally managing to lean back against the armrest of the sofa. Anthea was watching him worriedly, but she didn't try to stop him. He sighed. "We should talk."

Anthea nodded wordlessly and Spencer forced himself to begin speaking. He kept it simple, trying not to overwhelm her with details that she could ask for if she wanted to know, but otherwise would be content without. He started with Hankel, knowing it would be the easiest topic to get out of the way because the abduction itself wasn't as haunting to him, not anymore. She appeared to be taking it particularly well: her eyes were focused, her face expressionless. But when he got to the part about his heart stopping, Anthea closed her eyes and looked away, her breathing turning shallow.

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"Sorry," she choked out, sounding as though she was gasping for air. "I just – I need a minute."

Spencer felt his chest constrict at her expression. "I'm right here," he reached for her hand, only slightly hesitant, and let out a breath of relief when she gripped his fingers tightly in her own. "It was a long time ago, Thea."

Anthea didn't answer, but viciously rubbed at her eyes with her free hand. "Sorry," she sniffed, her voice steadier than before. "I just didn't expect that. When you said you had something to tell me, and after the way you'd been acting, I thought it would be awful, of course, but I…" she trailed off suddenly. "There's more to the story, isn't there?" she asked weakly.

Spencer sighed. "If want to talk about it some other time –"

"No," she shook her head. "Please, I know how hard it must have been for you to get this far."

"It's hard for you to listen to it, too."

"Yeah, but I can handle it," Anthea gave him a watery smile. "So, umm, what happened after they found you?"

Spencer winced. This was the part of the story he was dreading the most. He had initially thought it would have been Maeve, but since the topic of exes had never come up naturally between them, he thought Anthea wouldn't be as upset to learn about her. But the addiction…

He tried to be as brief as possible, without sounding flippant. The last thing he needed was for her to misunderstand the severity of what had happened, but he didn't want it to haunt her either. So he was careful in choosing his words, knowing that Anthea would pick up on any nuances immediately and demand an explanation. At first, her expression remained frozen, her eyes wide as he kept talking. When he mentioned that he'd still been working when suffering from the addiction, her grip on his hand tightened. When he described the withdrawal, she covered her mouth with a shaking hand. And when he explained that was why he didn't want any strong medication, and that he still sometimes worried about it, she finally looked away.

They sat in silence for what felt like hours, neither of them moving. Spencer was vaguely aware of his leg hurting from keeping it in the same position for too long, but it was a distant pain, as if his body was too busy processing a million other things to focus on his injury. Anthea's weight against his side, her hand still holding his, was reassuring. If she was still here, still willing to touch him, she wasn't disgusted with him. And if he didn't repel her now, after she knew his deepest, darkest secret, he had some hope that her feelings wouldn't change later.

"Thea?" he broke the silence hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

Anthea finally looked up from the ground, which she had been staring at blankly for the past few minutes. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her lower lip was slightly swollen from where her teeth had been digging into it. "No," she said hoarsely. "Not really."

"I don't know what to say," said Spencer helplessly. "I know this can be too much, and –"

"Can be? It _is_ too much," she snapped, and the bite in her voice surprised him. "It is _way_ too much, Spencer, and we've been together for almost a year! How could you wait this long to tell me?"

Spencer winced. "I'm sorry, I just –"

"You what?" she demanded. "You thought I'd _leave?_ That excuse is getting old, and I'm not sure what more I have to do to show you I _won't_ leave. Look at me!" she snapped, because he was looking at the floor, knowing what he would see if he looked up. He forced himself to meet her eyes, and saw the tears shining in them. "Spencer, I love you, I love you _so much,_ and I will happily spend every day proving it to you, but I need to know you trust me. I've never hidden anything from you, and even though I know our pasts aren't exactly in the same league, I thought we didn't keep secrets like these. Not anymore. Why didn't you tell me?" her voice broke on the last word, and she blinked viciously to keep her tears at bay. "I can't imagine what you've been through, but that shouldn't matter. I know I'm not a therapist or anything like that, but I deserved to know. I could have helped you."

"You did help me," said Spencer immediately. "Thea, these past few months with you have been the best of my life. I'm serious," he added, when she looked away dismissively. "You say you can spend every day proving how much you love me? I _want_ to spend every day doing that for you. You're a good person, probably one of the best people I know, and you've accepted parts of me that I always thought were deal-breakers in relationships. You need to understand, I haven't felt this way ev- well, in a long time," he amended hastily. "I couldn't tell you before, Thea. I didn't know what could make you leave me, I still don't, but this seemed like a probable reason."

Anthea sighed. "I don't want to leave you, Spencer. But if you hadn't gotten shot in a different state and I wasn't your emergency contact, I'm not sure you would have _ever_ told me about all this. Can you honestly tell me otherwise?"

Spencer opened his mouth to answer, fully prepared to reassure her that _of course_ he would have told her eventually, but he saw the look on her face. She was hopeful for his answer to be exactly that, but at the same time there was a hint of something else. She knew he would say anything at this point, even lie, if he had to. He couldn't do that. Not to her. "I don't know," Spencer said slowly. "Maybe… maybe I would have waited to tell you a little while longer."

Anthea bit her lip. "Okay," she said quietly. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and dusted invisible crumbs off her jeans. "Well, we don't have to worry about me walking out tonight. It's getting late, let me just get you some medicine and then you can…" she trailed off when his hand touched hers hesitantly, and gave him a questioning look.

Spencer wrapped his fingers around hers carefully, keeping his touch gentle. He wanted her to know she could pull away at any moment if he did something she didn't want. But she didn't, merely kept watching him curiously, so he tugged her back onto the sofa and straightened up with more effort than it should have taken. Still hesitant, he pressed his lips to her knuckles.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say. "If I could change things…" he trailed off. "Are we going to be okay?"

Anthea pursed her lips. "I want to be okay. Just… give it some time?"

Spencer nodded slowly. "Do you – I can go, if you want. I don't have to stay."

"If I wanted you to leave, Spencer, I'd have asked you to," Anthea sighed. "I'm just really tired. Are you okay to get up now?"

Spencer nodded, not wanting to push his luck. They didn't speak after that, not even when Anthea went into the bathroom and he could hear her muffled sobs despite the fact that she'd turned the shower on. Or when he almost tripped trying to get to the bed without his crutches and Anthea rushed to his side, eyes wide with concern. It was all so different from what they were usually like that Spencer felt his chest constrict with pain every time he caught sight of the haunted look in her eyes.

They'd shared a bed before countless times, so at least that part of the routine was still the same: Anthea slept on the right, closest to the door, and Spencer had the side with the single lamp on the table next to him, because he usually stayed up reading after Anthea had fallen asleep. This time, though, the tension in the air made sleep almost impossible. Spencer found himself staring blankly at the ceiling while Anthea finished getting ready for bed, forcing his mind to stay blank. The last thing he wanted to do now was start thinking.

"Can I get you anything?" asked Anthea. He turned to see her place a glass of water on the table next to him.

Spencer shook his head slowly. "I'm fine."

"Okay," Anthea took a deep breath and climbed into bed next to him. Spencer felt the bed dip with her weight, and the slight movements that he was used to by now as she settled in. But it was different this time. Usually Anthea twisted and turned and slyly managed to 'invade his personal space', as she liked to call it, as soon as the lights were off. Because if they did end up sleeping in the same bed, it was always _together._ Anthea liked to curl up against him, and Spencer liked to play with her hair as she slept. But she didn't come near him this time, whether it was because of his injury or because of what they'd talked about earlier, he wasn't sure. The lights were already off, so there was little else to do now but sleep. But he could tell she wanted to say something. He just wasn't sure how he wanted to hear it.

"Spencer?" her voice was timid.

He gulped. "Yes?"

"I love you," her hand snaked down his arm until her fingers wrapped around his own. "I'm glad you're okay."

The tightness in his chest loosened a little. "I love you too, Thea."


End file.
